


Pink in the Night

by mellagreens



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Harry, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub Undertones, Exes to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Spanking, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellagreens/pseuds/mellagreens
Summary: His finger was tapping on Louis’ chat before Harry could even think about it, eyes reading over the last text he’d sent Louis.I miss you. Do you miss me?Harry had felt so pathetic that December night, alone in the dark room of the Japanese apartment he’d been staying at, the strong smell of alcohol clinging to his clothes.Louis hadn’t replied, but Harry wasn’t surprised; he had texted Louis a few times before while he’d been away, but there had never been a response.It pained him to admit that this was their new normal.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 242





	Pink in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! I can't believe I'm finally posting this! It's been sitting in my google docs since March last year, and we know how it all went down from there. I want to thank Jess for betaing this work. Thank you for your kinds words, for sharing your knowledge, and for being so patient with me when I wouldn't stop communicating through memes lol.
> 
> The title is from the song Pink in the Night by Mitski.

The sunny day in Japan seemed to be laughing at Harry’s sorrow. He contemplated drawing the curtains, but he wasn’t sure what the full darkness could accomplish in the state he was in at the moment. He didn’t have a view of the busy streets from where he was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, but he certainly was able to hear the unintelligible sounds of chattering and speeding vehicles. In a curious way, it made him feel less alone.

Harry sighed loudly, closing his eyes as he untangled his legs and stretched them out. His right foot grazed against something, and he snapped his eyes open. Harry didn’t look at it; he already knew what it was. He slept all night holding it in his hand, wishing it was somewhere else, on someone else's hand, someone who it actually belonged to.

A couple of minutes flew by, and his gaze was drawn to the ring like it had been screaming at him to acknowledge it. And just the same as every time he looked at the ring, he was instantly thrown back to the time he’d picked it up from the floor and put it in his pocket as he’d watched Louis walk away.

His first solo tour had ended in July, and he’d come back to their home two days after. Louis had been waiting for him as he always had done, but that time had been different. There had been a few bags by the front door as he entered the house. Louis was sitting on their couch, the light blue pillows that Louis usually hugged when he wanted to be comforted were sprawled all across the room, like a burst of anger had taken over him.

Harry had known before he’d opened his mouth that the inevitable fight between them would be charged with a lethal finality. So he had loomed closer to the couch, and when Louis’ back stiffed, he stopped.

He still remembered thinking _please baby, don’t turn around_ but inevitably Louis was already turning, and Harry wasn’t sure he was ever going to forget how his puffy, red eyes had spoken to Harry before Louis could say a word.

Harry had spoken first, or had it been Louis? Sometimes, he remembered being the one that had started begging Louis to stay, and other times, it had been Louis who’d told Harry there had been nothing left to do before Harry could even open his mouth. His memory failed him now that it had been seven months since Louis had ended their nine year relationship. Their engagement.

Right now, Harry knew he should just get dressed and leave the room. His therapist had told him countless times, in almost every session Harry had with her, that when his memories started overwhelming him he needed to find something else to do to keep his mind occupied and away from any negative thoughts. But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, Harry reached out and grabbed the ring. It was a 6-carat blue diamond, set on a platinum base with smaller, triangular-cut diamonds. When Harry proposed, he told Louis that he bought it because it reminded him of his eyes. As he’d let Harry slide the ring on his finger, he could swear Louis’ smile shone brighter than any diamond in the whole entire world.

Harry had been carrying the ring with him everywhere since July; it was now February. At this point, he didn’t even know why he kept doing it. The ring felt wrong in his hand, but leaving it behind would feel like he was moving on, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t sure he would ever be ready.

The years after One Direction had dissolved had been the best ones. They went off the radar and traveled all around the world, exploring the places that they couldn’t before. And when they decided it was time to settle down, Harry had taken Louis to Jamaica and proposed to him on the beach, the glowing summer moon above them. 

Then, after a long time planning for his first solo tour, Harry hit the road. Louis secretly went to a few of the shows, and during that one song that meant a lot to them, Harry would look up to the spot where he knew Louis would be, and everything felt right. During those moments, it was as if Harry was standing all alone on stage, no band, no audience; just Louis, him and the heartfelt words of the song connecting them together. The amount of support and love from the fans had given Harry the courage to come out, and Louis had been there to support him.

As Harry had expected, the media began making countless assumptions about who he was dating, linking every man that had merely once sat beside Harry to their bizarre list of possible lovers. What he hadn’t expected was Louis asking him about made-up rumors. 

The first time Louis had asked about someone, Harry hadn’t thought much of it. They had been away from each other for longer than a month, and Harry was feeling the loneliness messing with his head too. But it continued to happen, and it eventually got impossible to ignore that something wasn’t right. 

The worst of it all was that most of the fights had happened over the phone. Harry didn’t have the opportunity to look Louis in the face and ask him W _hat are we doing to each other? Why are we arguing about things that make no sense? Is it because we’re away?_

Then it twisted into more than just insecurity and jealousy. They’d begun bringing past events into the picture, demanding answers to actions they had promised to never question because they knew it had never been their choice. Soon after, every time they would pick up the phone, it would be to argue about something.

Even though Harry didn’t remember who exactly had been the one to start talking the night they’d broken up, he vividly recalled how they’d gone over the same arguments they’d been having for the last couple of months. Their voices had gotten louder, and after a few minutes of incoherent screaming, Louis told Harry he wanted to stop the fighting once and for all.

Harry said something along the lines of _no, we’re not fucking done._

Louis had pulled the ring off his finger, and Harry numbly stood there as the ring was thrown at him, his wide eyes following its journey until it hit his chest, bounced, and fell to the floor. Some days, it was as if Harry could still hear the echo of the ring hitting the hard ceramic in the dead silent room.

And that had been it.

They still found a way to hurt each other a month later when Louis had stumbled into their house, mumbling about still having the key and wanting to return it, his eyes glued to the floor as though he didn’t want to see how Harry would react to his presence. But Harry was just a man, a weak man in love. The morning after, Harry had woken up to an empty bed. 

It soon became a cycle because Harry didn't know how to say no to Louis.

Harry was silently crying now. He put the ring beside him and wiped his face. He really needed to leave the room before it started smelling like sorrow and pathetic yearning. 

Harry got up and put on a beige cardigan over his white tee, and a pair of blue jeans. He grabbed his phone, rummaging around his bag for his AirPods and wallet before he opened the door to his room and stepped out. Harry put the AirPods in his ears while he waited for the elevator and picked the playlist he’d made a couple of weeks ago of all of his unreleased songs. 

An unfinished song started playing, one that still didn’t feel quite right, but Harry couldn’t put a finger on what the song was lacking.

 _You got my devotion but man I can hate you sometimes._ Harry listened to himself playing the guitar and singing as he walked out of the building, and the uplifting mood of Japan welcomed him into its arms.

——————

The morning was quiet in London, and Harry found himself lying on his bed with his eyes still closed as the grogginess slipped away, a drowsy smile stretching across his face. He had forgotten the calmness of his neighborhood.

He supposed that was what three months in Tokyo could do to someone. Harry had been away from home for so long that he’d forgotten details such as the peaceful mornings, how soft his bedding was, and the sense of belonging somewhere.

Harry enjoyed stretching out for a few minutes before grabbing his phone to check the hour. 7 A.M., March 15. He didn’t have any responsibilities to attend to today, but he knew if he stayed in bed for too long he would be grumpy for the rest of the day.

His finger was tapping on Louis’ chat before he could even think about it, eyes reading over the last text he’d sent Louis. _I miss you. Do you miss me?_

Harry had felt so pathetic that December night, alone in the dark room of the Japanese apartment he’d been staying at, the strong smell of alcohol clinging to his clothes.

Louis hadn’t replied, but Harry wasn’t surprised; he had texted Louis a few times before while he’d been away, but there had never been a response. They’d seen each other one last time in November before he’d gone to Japan, and just like all those other times they’d spent together, Louis’d become distant after they had sex.

It pained him to admit that this was their new normal. They just slept together and never talked about how they were feeling. They barely talked at all anymore.

Harry had woken up the next morning with the Tokyo sun filtering through the window, a hangover, and dried tears on his face. He read the text he’d forgotten he’d sent Louis the night before and threw the phone across the room. Much to his disappointment, it didn’t break.

Harry got up and went to the bathroom. After he was done, he put on a pair of boxers and some comfortable sweatpants. He grabbed his phone and walked out of the bedroom.

Harry entered the kitchen and went straight to the coffee machine, leaving his phone on the kitchen counter. He didn’t feel that hungry yet, so just coffee would do for now. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he waited for the coffee to brew. 

Routine without Louis still felt strange, though he knew those sorts of things would take time to get over. They’d been together for almost ten years, of course he would have a hard time getting used to the empty spaces, the quiet, the knowledge that he wasn’t going to find Louis sleeping next to him when he awoke.

The first weeks after they’d split up, Harry still made Louis breakfast out of habit. Each time he did, he always ended up crying on the kitchen floor over a mug full of tea and some toast. 

That was the reason why he’d decided to go to Japan. He needed a place with no memories attached to it, somewhere he wouldn’t be reminded of all he had lost. Being home without Louis had been tearing Harry apart, his mind and body unable to stand the sudden change.

He shook the thoughts away and picked up the mug in one hand and his phone in the other.

He walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. He sipped at his coffee, letting out a pleased hum as the bitter taste hit his tongue. Unlocking his phone, he ignored all the messages and opened Twitter to read what people were talking about. Someone had posted a picture of a beautiful garden and, feeling inspired, he opened the notes app to write down some thoughts.

Harry frowned at one of the last notes he’d written down. _Downlo ad grin-¿dr._

Memories came rushing back. He'd gone to a karaoke bar in Kabukichō with some friends on his last night in Japan. He was already tipsy on a delicious fruity drink that had barely tasted like alcohol when someone mentioned a dating app. The idea that people could just download an app to get a date had never crossed Harry’s almost-10-year-commited mind. He’d probably spoken his thoughts out loud because the person sitting next to him had mumbled _yeah, sure, “dating”_ making quotation marks with his fingers, and the few people at the table that had heard him had erupted in laughter.

Harry hadn’t thought about it since then, but he surely must have been interested if he’d written it down. How bad could it be? Maybe boredom was getting the best of him, but he found himself opening the app store and downloading Grindr.

He created an account and accepted the terms of privacy, and the next step was to add a photo. He stopped to think about what photo he could use. He didn’t really feel comfortable using one from his camera roll. Taking a thoughtful sip of his coffee, he searched for a picture of himself on Google and picked the most recent one.

After a few minutes of tapping everywhere he could, Harry admitted defeat. He didn’t understand the app. Should he be talking to someone? He scrolled down, his eyes gliding over countless faces and naked torsos. He should just delete this. The last sip of coffee he drank was cold, and he placed the mug on the wooden table in front of him.

Just as he was about to delete the app, a picture made him stop scrolling. It _surely_ wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. He tapped on the profile, rushing to get a better look. His breath hitched when he recognized the picture. There was no doubt about it now; it was definitely Louis. He had taken that picture himself, and now Louis was using it on his Grindr profile.

_Louis?_

He texted the other man when he opened the chat. After ten minutes with no answer, Harry started to get anxious. He frowned whilst trying to figure out how to turn on the notifications. He had just managed to do it when a text appeared on the screen. He quickly opened the chat.

_The famous Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson found each other on Grindr? That’s gonna be a hell of a headline. And hey, I guess we can bring One Direction back together now, mate._

_Louis, it’s really me._

He held the phone tightly in his hand, his eyes glued to the screen as he waited for a reply.

_Sure, love. Your picture still has the watermark, but better luck next time, you shitty excuse of a catfish._

Did it really? Harry hadn’t paid enough attention to the picture when he’d downloaded it. He was just messing around; he wasn’t really sure he wanted people to know he was the real Harry Styles. Now he wished he’d at least picked a picture with no watermark on it.

He hesitated for a moment, and then he started typing.

_That lovely picture you got going on there? I took it after I sucked you off._

The phone ringing startled him. _Incoming call._ The first time he tapped, the screen he missed the accept button and he had to try again. He put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he answered.

“What on earth are you doing on Grindr?” Louis’ rough voice said back. He must have just woken up.

“I’m surprised you’re up this early,” Harry commented. “You’re on Grindr too, by the way.”

“Fuck off. For your information, I’m now an early riser,” Harry suppressed a snort. Louis wouldn’t wake up when the sun was still rising even if someone begged him to. He probably made that comment to piss him off, but what if it was true? Harry really wouldn’t know anymore. It killed him to admit it.

“I won’t believe it until I see it,” Harry huffed out. “Louis, are you fucking strangers?”

“Are you?” Louis retorted.

“I downloaded this stupid app today, and I was about to delete it before I saw your profile,” Harry said truthfully.

“Sure,” Louis snickered.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, not about this. We don’t use protection when we fuck, you know,” his accusation was tainted with jealousy. Although Harry knew it wasn’t his business if Louis was seeing someone or not, he couldn’t help the deep possessive feeling raging inside him.

“Piss off, Harry. You know damn well I’m not seeing anyone.”

How would Harry know that? They weren’t together anymore, and even if they occasionally saw each other, they didn’t talk like they used to. He didn’t know if Louis still talked to their mutual friends, if he still took pictures of every dog he saw, or if he thought about someone else the way Harry still thought about him. It hurt him inside knowing he really didn’t know anything about Louis anymore. Louis only gave his body to him, and Harry gave his to Louis, but he had no clue what was going on in Louis’ mind.

Harry was hurt and lonely, and Louis felt so far away from him. It wasn’t healthy, whatever they were doing. Louis was setting the pace, and Harry was following behind the way he always had.

“Come over,” Harry said out of nowhere.

Harry heard the moment Louis’ breath hitched, and a few unsettling seconds went by with no answer. What if Louis was really done this time? Harry was familiar with the feeling after seeing Louis and not knowing when their next meeting was going to be. He knew what it felt like to hope that, on those nights when he would cling tightly to Harry, it meant he’d been missing him the same way Harry had been missing him. But Harry wouldn’t know what to do if Louis didn’t want to see him anymore. He respected Louis’ decisions, but who would he be if Louis stopped wanting him? Who would he become if Louis never came back? Louis would just go away and take everything with him, and Harry would be a man whose heart had been torn apart, walking around with no direction.

“Why? Did no one catch your eye in Japan?”

“Come over,” he repeated. “If you want to, of course,” he added.

He could hear Louis licking his lips, and he couldn’t help but copy the action.

“No funny business, though,” Louis warily said.

“No funny business,” Harry promised.

“Harry,” Louis warned.

“Will you come over?”

“I’ll have to rearrange some things, but I could be there by 5? Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Harry said, unable to help how hopeful he sounded. “I’ll be waiting.”

They said their goodbyes, and Harry was left alone waiting. It was going to be a long day.

——————

Harry was putting the kettle on when he heard the front door open. There was a moment of panic, his heart racing as he thought someone was breaking in. He tended to forget that Louis still had the key.

The sounds of the front door opening made it seem as if Louis had never left; as if maybe he’d just gone to get some groceries, and he was coming back with his hands filled with bags. That wasn’t their reality anymore. He rushed out of the kitchen and found Louis closing the front door.

Louis turned around, and they just stood there, looking at each other as if they were trying to see if something had changed. Harry’s eyes traveled all over Louis’ body. He was wearing a yellow jumper and _those_ jeans; the ones Harry had bought for him on his birthday. The ones that were tight and made his thighs look enticingly thick.

When he looked back up, blue eyes were staring at him.

Seconds later, Harry pinned Louis to the front door, hands beside his head, his mouth latched to his throat, softly nipping and sucking all over it.

“Harry,” Louis squeaked. “You promised, _fuck—_ Harry,” Louis moaned, but then he pressed both hands to Harry’s chest and gingerly pushed him back, separating them. “You promised,” Louis said, voice ragged.

Harry pulled back, arms flopping to his sides. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, Louis was looking at him, one eyebrow raised, a soft pink on his cheeks and the spot on his neck that Harry had just tasted.

“Sorry, yeah, it’s just— you’re wearing those jeans,” Harry said, gesturing helplessly at his pants. It wasn’t an excuse for his reaction, but he didn’t know what else to say except the truth.

“Oh, these?” Louis asked, looking down at himself. “They’re pretty comfortable, I guess,” he shrugged.

Harry knew what Louis was trying to do. There was no way he’d forgotten how hard Harry would fuck him every time he put those jeans on. He couldn’t say that. He also couldn’t point out that Louis had never worn jeans because they were “comfortable”. Louis wore jeans because he knew how illicitly irresistible he looked in them. He wore them to impress. 

“So…” Louis started, eyes roaming around the living room. “Are you going to make tea?”

“I already put the kettle on.”

Louis hummed and started marching toward the kitchen. Harry followed him, staring at his back. Harry had watched Louis walk into the kitchen a million times, but seeing Louis in any room of the house felt different since their breakup. Now, every empty space fervently fed on Louis’ presence just to later remind Harry of the aching hollowness invading him.

Louis sat on a stool in front of the island. Harry walked past him and picked up two mugs from the countertop.

They were silent as Harry prepared them tea, and he was grateful he had something to do with his hands.

Louis thanked him when he handed him his mug. Harry stood in front of him, the island separating them. They sipped on their tea at the same time.

“When did you come back?” Louis asked, breaking the silence.

“Like three days ago,” Harry said. “You like your tea?”

“Yeah,” Louis answered, taking another sip. “So, how was Japan?”

“It was good. Different, really unique,” he said.

“Cool,” Louis said, voice neutral, and he bent his head down.

Harry had never thought he would be making small talk with Louis, an awfully awkward one at that. He hated where they were now, close but far away, knowing each other inside out but behaving like two strangers that could barely hold a conversation.

“I brought you a present. I left it in the living room if you want to check it out now,” Harry commented, needing to say something to break the uncomfortable tension.

That made Louis look up at him. “You didn’t have to,” he said. Nor his face or voice revealed how he actually felt about Harry’s gesture.

“I always bring you presents when I’m away.”

Harry _used to_ bring Louis presents when they were still a couple, but Louis didn’t correct him, and for that Harry felt relieved, grateful even.

Louis told him he would check out his gift later as he drank his tea, while Harry had to pretend he was still drinking his even though he’d finished it two gulps ago.

Having Louis in their kitchen drinking the tea Harry had made for him felt surreal now, even if some time ago, it had only been routine. Louis had both hands clasped around the warm mug, his elbows over the kitchen island. Harry’s eyes closely followed the movement of Louis’ lips as he kept licking them after every sip he took. Harry felt completely mesmerized. Louis looked relaxed, trusting. Just like the way it used to be. If Louis noticed Harry couldn’t tear his gaze away from him, he didn’t show it

“I’m seeing someone,” Louis murmured into his mug.

Harry’s heart dropped. “You told me you weren’t,” he said while slowly putting down his mug, trying to control all the conflicted emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him.

Louis’ head shot up and their eyes met. Louis opened his mouth but no words came out. Harry noticed the way Louis’ hands trembled as he put his own mug down. 

“I know, I know. It’s just— I met someone, but it’s not like we’re dating. I mean, we haven’t even kissed yet,” he rushed out.

Harry kept quiet, and Louis shifted in his seat.

“It’s actually a funny story.”

“Oh, I bet it is. I’m so excited to hear all about it,” Harry said sarcastically.

Louis glared at him. “I’m mostly in the studio every day now, so I don’t actually have time to go out and meet people. But Stan told me about Grindr while we were at his house with a small group of friends, and I downloaded it.”

Louis looked down again, his finger running over the edge of his mug.

“We started looking through the profiles, and then I saw a picture of someone that looked familiar. I looked up and James was lying on the floor right in front of us with his eyes closed. He’s— he’s a really good friend of Stan’s. James looked at us when we started laughing, so Stan took the phone from my hand and showed James his profile and he went all red and,” Louis cleared his throat, “we’ve been, you know, talking since then,” Louis finished off. He hadn’t looked at Harry once since he’d started talking.

“That was a beautiful love story, Louis,” Harry mocked.

He rested both hands on the island and took a deep breath, his blood boiling with jealousy, burning him alive. Louis looked at him through his lashes, as if he knew about Harry’s internal crisis and didn’t want to fully face it.

“So I’ve been thinking and…I guess this—” he signaled between them with his hand, “—has to stop.”

“We’re not doing anything right now,” Harry said.

“You know what I mean.”

Just because Harry knew didn’t mean he wished he didn’t. He wished for a lot of things lately, but every single dream and prayer seemed to slip a bit more from his grip with each passing minute.

Harry felt stunned, not knowing what to say, what to think.

Louis wanted to be with someone else. He’d finally decided to move on, and Harry would have to watch him walk away with another man. He would have to watch Louis have the life they were intended to have together, with someone who wasn’t Harry.

Harry wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to let Louis go. He’d done it once, and it had almost ruined him. How could the universe be so cruel to ask this of him again?

So this was it— their definite finale. Louis was going to walk out the door, and this time he wasn’t coming back. This was goodbye for good.

Something inside him shifted. They were both under the roof they’d shared for years, in the room they’d had sex in the very same day they’d moved in, in the house which they had decorated with memories of giggles, moans, and so much love. Looking at Louis now, a more feral need took over the troubling emotions that were painting his heart blue.

If this was their last time together, what Harry _really_ wanted was to make sure Louis never forgot it, make sure Louis carried every single detail of their passionate love inside him everywhere he went to remind him of how fulfilling it was.

He straightened up, taking a more authoritative posture. “Go to our room and finger yourself open,” Harry’s deep voice rumbled in the quiet kitchen. 

Louis’ breath hitched.

“Harry,” he whispered, wide-eyed.

“If this—” Harry paused. “If this is really it…let me have you one last time.”

Louis’ face made it clear that there were a million thoughts running through his head. His chest heaved up and down with every breath he took, tongue sticking out to lick over his lips. Harry wanted to kiss him so badly it was driving him insane. 

What was he even doing? Louis clearly wanted to move on. He was done with him. Harry didn’t get to demand anything.

“Sorry, I’m— fuck,” he closed his eyes, hands gripping the island. “You don’t have to let me do anything, Louis. I’m sorry, I’m—”

“I want you,” Louis interrupted him. He sounded closer. A hand suddenly touched his forearm, startling him. Harry’s eyes snapped open. Louis was now standing next to him, the heat of his body warming him. “Please, I want you…sir.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Louis was looking at him with pleading eyes, a rose pink dusting his cheeks, teeth biting down on his bottom lip. Harry’s cock stirred at the alluring sight of a yearning Louis.

His head was quickly clouding with lust. He breathed through his dry mouth, hand moving to lay over Louis’.

“Are you sure, baby?” Harry asked, needing reassurance.

Louis hummed. “I’m sure,” Louis said. “Green, sir.”

Tomorrow, Louis might be in the arms of another man, but for today, Harry could pretend Louis was still his.

Harry firmly cupped his face in his hand, dragging his thumb along the sharp edge of his jaw. Louis' eyes fluttered closed, and Harry’s gaze was drawn to the movement of his lips parting open.

“Go to our room and open yourself up. The lube is in my nightstand. Don’t touch your cock. I will know if you do,” Harry’s thumb made its way to Louis’ enticing lips, hunger sliding through his veins as Louis’ tongue instantly darted out to give his finger a tiny lick.

“Yes, sir,” Louis slurred the words. 

“I’ll wash the mugs and then I’ll come to the room,” Harry couldn’t resist the temptation anymore, leaning forward and giving in to the urge of pecking Louis’ soft lips. Louis let out a sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time. Harry pulled back, Louis blindly chasing after him. “Go on, baby, be good.”

Louis blinked his eyes open. “I’m always good for you,” he murmured as he inched his face closer to Harry’s, persistent in his attempt to kiss him once more.

“Yes, you are. Such a good boy for me,” Harry drawled out, enjoying the way Louis quivered under his hand. Harry leaned in to give him another peck, his other hand moving behind him to give Louis’ bum a quick slap. “Go, Louis.”

Louis provocatively licked his lips as if he was still savouring the kiss. There was a sly smile on his face as he turned around and left the kitchen. Harry watched him as he walked toward the stairs that led to the bedroom, and as soon as Louis was out of his sight he closed his eyes and willed his heart to stop trying to beat out of his chest.

——————

The sight of Louis on the bed, ass up in the air presenting himself, stole all the air from Harry’s lungs. His outstretched arms were holding himself up, his back beautifully arched, and his head was looking straight at the headboard.

Harry stripped off all his clothes as he stepped closer to the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he carefully kneeled behind Louis, his inviting, round ass right in front of him. His unattended cock jerked between his legs, mind racing with all the sinful things he desperately wanted to do to Louis.

Harry placed both hands over the smooth cheeks, parting them to reveal that shaved, pink hole that begged him to put his mouth all over it, to make it all wet with his spit and fuck his tongue deep into it until his jaw hurt. Louis inhaled sharply.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, baby,” Harry rumbled. He pressed his thumb to his entrance, and Louis trembled at the touch. He bent down to lick a hot stripe from his perineum up to his hole, enjoying the way Louis melted under his mouth as he lapped at it with his tongue.

“Sir,” Louis moaned, pushing his ass back into Harry’s face.

He dove his tongue deep into his stretched hole, both hands moving to tightly grip Louis’ hips to stop him from moving. Louis softly whined, his body shivering as Harry kept insistently burying his tongue in, then out to circle around the rim, and back again into his warm, hungry hole.

“You’re delicious, baby. I could eat you out for hours,” Harry hummed against the skin, his breathing harsh and his voice rough and tainted with carnal desire. He roughly nipped at his right cheek before straightening up.

“Please,” Louis mewled.

One hand stayed on Louis’ hip as the other traveled under his stomach, giving his stiff cock a slow tug, thumb playing around the dripping tip. Louis shuddered, a soft cry leaving his mouth.

“What’s that, baby? What do you want?” Harry asked as he dropped his cock. He moved his hand back to prod Louis’ rim with his finger, adding a promising pressure as he waited for a response.

“Whatever you want, sir,” Louis slurred.

“Is that so, baby?” Harry grunted. _Whatever he wanted._ The words sounded like the most divine song to his ears, cock throbbing at the countless erotic possibilities. Without warning, he sank his finger into Louis’ hole, feeling it desperately clench around him as Louis’ whine echoed around the room. He was all stretched and tender from prepping himself just as Harry had asked him to, so the second finger easily and _oh so beautifully_ slid in. “ _Fuck._ Look at that, honey. Your greedy hole is swallowing my fingers.”

“Please, sir, please,” Louis pleaded, voice trembling with urgency.

Harry shoved a third finger in with force, making Louis yelp. His arms gave out and he fell onto his chest, face plastered to the pillow under him. What a lovely picture Louis made, ass full of Harry’s fingers, shallow breaths coming in and out of furiously red lips and wet lashes fringing his squinted eyes. 

Harry avoided his prostate. Louis was too worked up already and he could definitely just come from his fingers. He’d done it before.

“Feel how hard you’re making me,” Harry pressed his cock against Louis’ thigh, his fingers still tortuously sliding in and out of his body. Louis quivered, muffling his cries with the pillow under him. “You want this, baby? You want me filling you up?”

Louis choked on a whine and vigorously nodded.

Harry carefully pulled his fingers out. He couldn’t wait any longer, his own body shaking with lust, seeking to satiate his desperate hunger, already right on the edge of combusting. He lined up his cock against Louis’ entrance and slowly pressed inside, the maddening heat enveloping him. Louis’ fingers were gripping the sheets beneath him, his eyes still squeezed shut as his body enthusiastically welcomed Harry in. 

They groaned in unison once Harry was completely buried inside Louis. He dropped forward, his chest against Louis’ back, and pressed his nose in the crook of Louis’ throat. Harry took a deep breath. He couldn’t help the possessive growl vibrating in his chest as he smelled his own cologne perfuming Louis’ skin. 

“You’re so big,” Louis gasped. “Oh sir, I’m sorry, but I’m really close,” Louis cried out.

“You’re not going to come until I say so,” Harry warned, nipping harshly at Louis’ throat. “Understood?” Louis jerkily nodded. Harry pulled his cock all the way out, and Louis whimpered at the loss. “I asked you a question, Louis, and I expect you to answer it. Have you forgotten your manners?”

“No, no, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I- I’ll come when you want me to,” Louis rushed the words out, voice hoarse. 

“That’s my good boy,” Harry praised, easing back into the heat of Louis’ body.

Louis let out a whimpering moan, squeezing around the intrusion. Harry hooked his arms under Louis’ armpits and hugged his shoulders as he picked up a slow thrusting pace.

The heat forming below his stomach didn’t surprise him. He’d gone so long without having Louis like this, pliant and trusting under him. He wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. He’d been on edge since the moment he’d walked into the room, his head already spinning with the enormity of his desire. Louis’ nails dug into his forearms as Harry sped up the pace, rocking his hips with more force each time. Louis’ moans filled the room, and Harry latched his mouth to his neck, sucking and biting, marking him up.

He felt so lost in the hazy and lustful fog that was clouding his head that he completely missed what Louis had just said.

Harry slowed down his thrusts. “What was that, baby?” he murmured against Louis’ ear.

“I want to see you, please, sir,” Louis eagerly choked out.

Harry carefully flipped Louis onto his back, and Louis hooked his legs loosely around his waist and slung both arms around his neck, his hard cock caught between their stomachs.

“Hello,” Louis slurred, cheeks flushed and watery eyes staring at Harry, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“Hello, pretty thing,” Harry pecked his lips, and Louis let out a breathy sigh against his mouth, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Feels so good, sir,” Louis rasped out.

“He won’t fill you up like this, baby. You know that, right?” Harry sternly said as he dragged his cock almost all the way out and shoved it back into Louis’ hole in one harsh thrust.

“Harry,” Louis gasped as he opened his eyes. He stared into Harry’s wild gaze, eyebrows knitted together in a small frown. “Sir?”

“You’re never going to be this good for him,” Harry insisted, changing the angle and thrusting into that sweet spot inside Louis that made his head spin.

“But I’m— I’m good,” Louis said, breath hitching. He urgently searched for Harry’s hand from where Harry was resting them beside his head. Harry let him take it and watched as Louis brought it to his mouth.

“Of course you are, baby. My good boy,” Harry agreed, reassuring.

Louis closed his eyes and let out a content hum, peppering Harry’s hand with kisses.

Although Harry wanted this moment to last forever, to be able to stay in this bed with Louis and never have to confront reality ever again, he was also really close. He knew Louis was right there with him, considering how he let go of Harry’s hand to grip his shoulder, and how hard he was clenching around Harry, milking him.

Harry’s hand traveled down to grip Louis’ dripping cock, his belly wet with marks of his own arousal. His mouth gaped open as Harry began stroking him in time with his quick, sharp thrusts.

“Oh, sir, please. May I come? Please, sir, please,” Louis desperately pleaded, head thrown back, lost in his own pleasure.

“You’ve been so good. You can come,” Harry grunted, roughly thrusting into Louis’ body, hitting that sensitive spot inside him over and over again.

“Thank you, thank you,” Louis kept repeating in a high pitched tone.

Harry swiped his thumb over his cockhead, and two tugs later, Louis let out a choked moan as he spurted all over Harry’s hand and his own chest. His thrusts soon became uncoordinated, and he groaned as he began deliciously filling up Louis’ hole with his own release.

Louis surged up and caught Harry’s mouth in a messy kiss. The atmosphere in the room sated and almost dreamy. They kissed for a while, their breathing slowly evening out.

“I’m going to run you a bath,” Harry murmured against his mouth.

“Wow, am I getting the full treatment?” Louis asked, playfully quirking his eyebrows.

“Louis,” Harry warned, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Sorry, sir,” Louis said as he tried to look innocent. It was an endearing attempt. “A bath sounds just lovely.”

Harry pecked Louis’ lips one more time before getting up. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“It’s not like I can move after that,” Louis cheekily replied as Harry walked towards the bathroom. 

Harry turned on the tap and moved to check himself out in the mirror above the marble sink as water started filling up the bathtub. His long and curly hair was disheveled, some baby hairs sticking to his sweaty forehead. A faint blush was covering his cheeks, a residue of the passionate encounter. He noticed that spark in his eyes, the one he thought he’d lost. His whole face radiated, lit up like a homely Christmas tree.

And wasn’t that ironic? The same man that caused Harry so much pain was the only one that could make him look this way, this joyful and at peace. 

He checked the water’s temperature once the bathtub was filled and threw in a white rose bath bomb, watching it dissolve. He returned to the bedroom to get Louis.

He hadn’t moved a bit.

“Yes, yes. I’m a good boy, I know,” Louis mumbled, a sly smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He rolled onto his side and made grabby hands at Harry.

Harry huffed out a laugh and picked him up. Louis wrapped around him like a koala, and Harry carried him to the bathroom.

He sat in the bathtub and helped Louis join him, his back to Harry. Louis let Harry wash his hair, his fingers massaging his scalp as he lathered shampoo and then later conditioner over his head. Louis’ pleased, soft sighs filled the steamy room. He sat there, enjoying the warm scented water and Harry’s gentle touches. When he was done cleaning them, Louis scooted closer to Harry, laying his back against his chest, and threw his head over Harry’s shoulder. 

“Are you staying the night?” Harry murmured.

Louis’ body stiffened momentarily. “I’m— yes? I mean, I assumed…but if you don’t want—“

“I want you to stay, Louis,” Harry quickly reassured. 

_Forever._ His mind added unhelpfully.

“Ok,” Louis murmured, his body tender against Harry once again.

“Ok,” He repeated and laid a gentle kiss on Louis’ shoulder.

——————

Harry stared at the pancake as it cooked, whistling along to a cheery tune that had been stuck in his head ever since he’d woken up. He turned his head when he heard footsteps approaching and watched as Louis walked into the room, fully dressed, his hair combed, and his eyes puffy. 

“Morning,” Louis mumbled, voice still hoarse with sleep.

“Morning. How did you sleep?”

“Really good. Actually, it was the best sleep I’ve gotten in the last few days,” Louis said. Harry could totally understand the feeling.

“I’m glad,” Harry gave him a warm smile. “Take a seat. Breakfast is almost done.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No. It’s ok,” Harry said and turned back to the stove. The pancake was already cooked, so he put it on a plate. He picked up the bowl sitting on the counter next to him and poured the remaining of the pancake batter into the pan.

“I can make coffee,” Louis offered, still standing behind him.

“I already made coffee,” Harry said, and he flipped the pancake when bubbles appeared.

“I’ll grab the mugs then,” Louis insisted, and this time he moved to the countertop to pick up the mugs without waiting for any objections. Louis sensed what he’d been trying to do. Harry’s need to take care of everything —to take care of Louis— was palpable in the air, but Louis was letting Harry know he didn’t want that anymore.

The morning sun invaded every corner of the kitchen, and the light was erasing all traces of the night before.

Reality was slapping Harry in the face.

Louis filled two mugs with coffee, and Harry served him a plate of pancakes. They sat down and ate breakfast in silence.

They were back to the uncomfortable phase way too soon, and Harry was finding it difficult to adjust. How did Louis do this? Why was it so easy for him to act as if last night had never happened?

Louis’ phone pinged, and he slid his hand inside his jean’s pocket to grab it. “I gotta head out. They’re waiting for me at the studio,” Louis said as he kept his gaze locked down on the screen, already standing up.

“ _Oh_ — ok,” Harry said glumly, having a hard time swallowing the last piece of pancake he’d been chewing.

Harry got up as Louis turned his back to him and walked out of the kitchen. He followed suit. The joggers Harry had bought for him in Japan were inside of a plastic bag, sitting on the glass table in front of the couch in the living room, and Louis picked it up. He hadn’t forgotten about the present; he still wanted it. At least that warmed Harry’s heart when everything around him was crushing it down.

He was about to open the door for his ex-fiancé, like he’d done countless times when they lived together, but Louis wasn’t coming back this time. The knowledge sat wrong in his chest.

“Can I kiss you one last time?” Harry asked, feeling a sudden rush of bravery once they were standing in front of the door.

Louis’ back stiffened, and he turned around to meet Harry’s eyes. Harry wished he knew what was going on inside his head.

“You promised me last night would be the last time,” Louis dragged out in a whisper, almost like he was struggling to make the words come out of his mouth.

Harry shuddered out a breath. “This is different.”

“I know, that’s—“ Louis started, his tongue nervously darting out to lick his lips. “That’s why I’d rather we didn’t kiss.”

Harry wanted to insist, but Louis looked so hurt, like breaking Harry’s heart was breaking his own heart too. And why hadn’t they just stopped once they’d broken up? Why were they prolonging the inevitable?

“Well,” Harry said awkwardly. He picked up the key hanging by the front door. He couldn’t stop thinking about leaving his pride behind and just dropping to his knees to beg Louis to give them a second chance. He opened the door, hand screwed up tight around the doorknob, trying to keep himself from reaching out and touching Louis. 

“Goodbye, Harry,” Louis said as he gave him one last melancholic smile, and stepped out of the house.

Harry couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye, so he just nodded. Louis looked at him like he wanted to say something else. _Say it. Whatever it is, just say it._

But as usual, life didn’t give Harry the things he wished for.

Louis turned around and walked away, and Harry stood in the archway until Louis was out of his sight.

And then some more.

——————

Spring was in full swing in May, and flowers were blossoming in every corner of the city of Rome. The weather was the best part of it; warm and sunny during the day, with the night bringing a soft breeze allowing him to unwind after a long day of work.

Harry had landed the lead role in a major movie, and he’d been shooting some scenes in Italy for the past couple of days.

The change of scenery and being productive lightened up Harry’s glum mood. There was just something about this city that filled every pore of his body with the need to create. So he’d been carrying his journal everywhere he went, from the set to those walking escapades he liked taking to that one secluded place where the sunset stunningly hit the earth unlike anywhere else. His hand hurt from how much he’d been writing any chance he got, but it was a good ache. An ache that reminded him of the burning creativity flowing through his veins, making him feel alive.

Writing about Louis came to Harry as naturally as waking up in the morning and preparing himself for the day. So of course, every line of every song he’d written so far had been about Louis. He came to the conclusion that it did more harm than good to force himself to move on. He just went along with his heart, knowing it was pointless to try to change its desires.

Harry was on set when he first heard about it. He’d just finished a scene when the gossiping of a group of makeup artists reached his ears. He was on his way to his trailer when he heard someone mentioning Louis being in Rome. 

He hadn’t seen Louis since that day they’d spent together in March, when Louis had cut things off between them completely and had left Harry heartbroken yet again.

Once inside his trailer, he searched for his phone. The first thing that popped up when he opened Twitter was a picture of Louis. He was walking around Rome with a cup of Starbucks cold brew coffee in his hands. He was maybe half an hour away from Harry’s set. What was he doing in Rome? Of all the places in the world he could visit, why the one where Harry was working?

Harry opened Louis’ chat. 

_Heard you’re in Rome._

_???_

Louis’ response surprised him. He’d only sent him a text a minute ago. He hadn’t expected to get such a fast response. To be honest, he hadn’t expected to get one at all.

He furrowed his brows at the question marks and started typing.

_I’m also in Rome._

_Funny coincidence._

Funny indeed. Harry dialed Louis’ number without giving it too much thought.

“’llo?”

“Is it really a coincidence?” Harry blurted out, palming himself in the face when he noticed how accusatory he’d sounded. 

“No, Harry, it’s not. Actually, I’m following you everywhere you go.”

 _It wouldn’t be the first time._ Harry thought. But of course, he wasn’t going to tell Louis that; he didn’t want the first time they talked in months to turn into an argument. 

The line between coincidence and intention was kind of blurred between them. It had always been.

“We can hang out if you want,” Louis’ voice pulled Harry from his thoughts.

“Hang out?” Harry asked dumbly.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re still friends, right?” he tried to sound casual, but Harry heard the slight tremble of uncertainty in his voice.

“Sure,” he said, because what else could he say? He didn’t know if he would call whatever they had friendship, but if Louis wanted to be friends, then Harry wasn’t going to say no to him. 

“Cool,” Louis rasped out. “Are you working right now or—“

“Oh, you want to hang out today?” Harry interrupted.

“Yeah? Unless you’re busy.” 

“No, I finished shooting for the day. I was actually just heading back to my hotel. We can totally do something today.”

“Cool,” Louis repeated. Harry waited for him to continue talking. He wasn’t really sure what to say anyway. “Send me your location when you’re there, and I’ll come over.”

Harry told him he was going to do just that and hung up the call.

Would it be smart for them to be together in Harry’s hotel room? Maybe it would be better to hang out somewhere else; a coffee shop, or any local restaurant. But the idea of the media knowing his whereabouts didn’t sound too appealing.

It would be fine. Louis was probably already in another relationship; they weren’t going to fall back into their old habits.

Louis wanted to be friends again. He had to move on in order for their friendship to work. It was going to be hard to accept that even the slight chance of getting Louis back was already gone, but Harry could try.

Once Harry got back to his hotel, he sent Louis his location. He didn’t know what to do, so he started tidying up the room while he waited for Louis. When everything looked clean enough, his stomach started growling, so he ordered room service.

Harry had been rehearsing his lines for a few minutes when there was a knock at the door. He left the script inside his bag and went to open it.

Louis looked gorgeous. His hair was a bit longer than it had been the last time Harry had seen him in person. His face looked more rounded out, healthier. Louis looked at him through his eyelashes and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Hello,” Louis said.

Harry moved aside, and he quickly peered down at Louis’ body as he was entering the room. He noticed Louis was wearing the joggers Harry had gotten him in Japan.

He swallowed loudly, but Louis thankfully didn’t comment on it. He shut the door. “Hi,” he greeted back.

“Rome’s been treating you nice, I see,” Louis said and pointed at him. Harry didn’t know what he meant, so he frowned as he looked down at his body. “The tan, I mean,” Louis added.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. It’s— it’s actually for the movie,” Harry explained, and Louis nodded his understanding.

They were standing silently in the hallway, as if they were trying to avoid saying the wrong thing. The tension was building up, and Harry had to do something to let Louis know that they could start over again. They could be friends.

Harry grimaced. Yes, he was willing to try, but it was going to take a while to get used to that idea.

“Let’s go to the balcony. I ordered room service,” Harry said, interrupting the awkward silence.

Louis made a comment about how big the room was, almost as big as a house, and Harry chuckled when Louis compared it to the size of the first apartment they’d moved in together. Harry was sure that that apartment was smaller than this room.

“Wow, this is your view? It’s breathtaking,” Louis commented, sitting on one of the single couches that were on the balcony.

It might seem like a romantic tactic. The sun setting on the horizon, the delicious food over the glass table, and the calm wind carrying the scent of roses from the large garden next to the hotel. But Harry had thought the balcony was his best choice; he could breathe in fresh air, and the sounds of the city were distracting enough to keep Harry’s thoughts at bay. 

Harry sat on the couch next to him. 

“So, who’s the director of the movie?” Louis asked while popping a grape into his mouth.

“Yorgos Lanthimos,” Harry said, his chest filling up with pride. He’d wanted to work with Yorgos for the longest time, and when he’d gotten the part, he had called his mother first to share the exciting news. Louis had been the first person he’d wanted to tell, but of course he couldn’t; they barely talked. Harry shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that now.

“Do I know any of his work?” Louis was looking at the selection of cheeses in front of him. He picked a chunk of Parmigiano.

“We’ve watched The Lobster together, remember? The one with Rachel Weisz,” Harry only mentioned Rachel Weisz because he knew Louis thought she was the most gorgeous woman on Earth. And because he was sure Louis didn’t remember who Colin Farrell was.

“The one with the whole turning into animals thing?” Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, that was a good movie,” Louis brought the cheese up to his mouth. “Rachel is such a beautiful woman, absolutely stunning,” Louis said dreamily once he was done chewing.

“She sure is,” Harry agreed as he filled Louis’ glass with some wine.

They continued eating in silence, apart from the casual grunts of approval when they tasted a really good cheese, or when Harry asked Louis if he wanted more wine. Harry was pretty hungry, but he still tried eating at a casual pace.

It was the first time they were together in months, and Harry didn’t feel the need to make small talk. He felt comfortable, and he wanted to enjoy every single second of it.

The peaceful ambience stayed even after they were done eating. The night had set upon Rome, and the now lit up city was the only source of light on the balcony.

Louis excused himself to go to the bathroom and walked back into the room. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hadn’t felt this calm in months, and it was a weird sensation; one he didn’t remember needing so much.

Maybe being friends could work. He would really try this time, if it meant he could have this again. Louis had seemed to enjoy his company. He’d looked pleased and relaxed. Harry wanted him to be happy more than anything in the world.

“We haven’t slept together.”

Louis’ voice startled him. Harry’s eyes snapped open, quickly straightening up. He hadn’t noticed he’d been drifting off, but Louis was now sitting next to him, his hands folded over his crossed legs, and his intense gaze boring a hole through Harry.

Harry knew that look.

“I’m— what?” Harry asked.

“James and I,” Harry stared at him. Louis sighed exasperatedly and untangled his legs. “The guy I’m seeing.”

“Ok. And you’re telling me this because…” Harry trailed off, waving his hand to indicate that he wanted Louis to explain himself.

But he knew why Louis was telling him. Harry had known him for almost a decade; he knew Louis like the back of his hand. The staring, the confession; it all meant Louis was asking for something, just like he’d done every time after they’d broken up. Harry was just daring him to say it out loud.

“We haven’t even kissed yet,” Louis murmured, dropping his eyes to his lap where he was nervously playing with his fingers.

“Friends don’t ask other friends to do what you’re asking me to do, Louis. If we’re just friends, you shouldn’t even want it.”

Harry knew he was being cruel, but he’d enjoyed spending the afternoon with Louis, and he’d been closer than ever to deluding himself into thinking that being Louis’ friend would be enough. Of course he wanted Louis. He wasn’t sure he would ever not want him. But would Louis punish him after he gave in? Would he stay away like he’d done before, with little to no contact? Just thinking about that possibility was destroying Harry already.

But here he was again. And just like the last few times, he’d already given in the moment their eyes met and Louis stared at him with that look that was so familiar to Harry.

“I need it,” Louis said softly.

“You want it,” Harry said, sounding confident, but also as a way to give Louis an out if he wasn’t really sure.

“I do,” Louis said as he lifted his chin up, their gazes locking. “I want you, sir.”

A thrill ran down Harry’s spine, lust coiling in the pit of his stomach and blood quickly rushing down to his groin. He got up, and his feet carried him toward Louis, clenching his hands as he felt his fingertips itching— the need to touch almost unbearable. Louis watched closely as he approached, mouth parted open as his chest rose with his every breath. Louis looked at him through his lashes when Harry extended a hand, eyes expectantly roaming Harry’s face. Louis took it, and he helped him to his feet.

Up this close, Harry noticed the gleam in Louis’ eyes. He looked like he always did when he wanted Harry; ravishingly stunning. Harry’s hand was up in the air before he noticed his own movement, landing on Louis’ chin, his thumb instantly grazing over the tempting bottom lip. Louis’ eyes fluttered shut, arms falling limply beside him— devotedly letting Harry look at him, touch him, however he desired.

And _oh_ how much Harry craved him. The unrelenting craving weakened his knees, making him lose control. He craved with a passion that only Louis could muster out of him; fierce greed.

“Are your lips mine?” Harry asked as he dropped his hand. He knew that if he kept touching Louis, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Yours, sir,” Louis whispered.

“Look at me when I talk to you, Louis,” Harry demanded. Louis’ eyes snapped open. “You sure you haven’t shared them with anyone?”

“I haven’t. I haven’t kissed him, Harry, I—“

“It’s ok, baby, I know,” Harry shushed him before he could continue his nervous spluttering. “Go to the bathroom and rinse the day off your body, then come back to me when you’re done. Naked,” Louis nodded vigorously, drinking up all the instructions with enthusiasm, like he always did. “Don’t take too long,” Harry warned him.

“Yes, sir,” Louis rasped out, but he stood in front of Harry without moving, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“What are you waiting for? Go on, do as you’re told.”

Louis had never refused to follow his orders before. Well, he had; but that had been when they were still together, and he’d only done it when he wanted to push all of Harry’s buttons.

But right now Louis didn’t look defiant— he looked uncertain, as if he wanted something, and he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to have it.

“What’s your color, Louis?”

“Green, Harry. I’m— sir… it’s green,” Harry decided to let the slip up go since Louis’ voice came out trembling.

“You don’t sound so sure,” Harry pointed out.

“Sir, I was— I was wondering,” Louis started, soft and timid. “May I have…May I have a kiss? Please, sir.”

Harry’s heart flipped. Hearing the question felt like a sharp stab to his lungs, leaving him breathless. He was on the edge of crumbling down and begging Louis to understand that he could have all the kisses he wanted. _But please, please don’t leave me again._

They seemed to be addicted to this unhealthy cycle of seeing each other, sleeping together, and then radio silence. It was destroying them, but they couldn’t stop.

Harry placed his forefinger under Louis’ chin, lifting his head up. Harry stared into Louis’ inquiring eyes, gaze slowly traveling down to his lips, wet from licking them and slightly parted. Waiting. Wanting.

Harry’s hand slid to the back of Louis’ head, grabbing Louis’ soft hair in a tight grip. He roughly tilted his head back and swallowed Louis’ desperate moan as he sealed their lips together.

Louis tasted just like Harry remembered, and a bit like the wine he’d had. He pushed his tongue into Louis’ mouth and savored him. Claiming Louis’ mouth was addictive, and Harry was greedily drinking up all of his soft, needy whimpers.

His cock was now straining in his pants. He pushed forward, their bodies molding together. Louis’s own desire pressed against Harry’s leg. This was what they always did to each other, their starving bodies quickly responding to their needs.

He roughly nipped at Louis’ bottom lip before he pulled back. Louis’s eyes stayed shut as his body leaned toward Harry’s movement. Harry still had Louis’ hair in his grip, so he pulled at it. Louis’ eyes flung open.

“Thank you,” Louis whispered, voice now rough. He looked dazed, already a bit out of it. Harry let go of his hair and took another step back.

Louis immediately understood. He rushed inside and made his way to the bathroom. Harry entered the room and drew the white curtains over the balcony’s door; he didn’t close it, letting the warm breeze of the city enter the room. It was dark, so Harry turned on the lamp sitting on the nightstand; its light washed the room in a pale yellow hue. He didn’t dare turn on any other lights, too fearful of breaking the intimate atmosphere.

Harry had to sit down on the bed to compose himself. He growled as he pressed his palm against his aching cock. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

It didn’t take long for Louis to appear through the darkened hallway. Harry admired him as he slowly inched closer to the bed. Timid posture, gaze down. He was naked, and all his exposed skin was drinking the pale lighting of the room. His stiff cock curved against his soft belly, demanding attention. Harry’s mouth watered.

“Stop,” Harry commanded, and Louis abruptly ceased his movement. “Look at me,” Louis did. “Good boy,” Harry purred, observing Louis’ body as it shivered at the praise. “Crawl to me.”

Louis gracefully fell on his hands and knees, eyes sharply staring up at Harry as he began crawling in his direction. Harry lasciviously parted his legs and gave his cock a lazy tug. Louis kneeled in front of him, ass resting on the heels of his feet, arms behind his back. He stared at Harry’s hand on his dick for a moment, licked his lips, and looked back up to meet his eyes.

The way Louis looked on his knees, obediently expectant, eager to please Harry, would always take his breath away no matter how many times he’d seen him like this before. Harry remembered the first time Louis had been on his knees for him; he’d been rock hard in seconds looking at Louis’ eyes, shining with a mixture of lust, excitement and complete trust.

“Good boy,” Harry rumbled. Louis’ gaze dropped, his sharp inhale of air loud in the room. “I missed this,” Harry added. It was hard keeping the nostalgia out of his voice when all he’d wanted to say instead was. _I missed you like this. I missed you in every way possible. I simply missed you._

“I missed this too,” Louis whispered, eyes still glued to the floor.

“What do you want, baby?” Harry purred the words.

“Whatever you want, sir.”

“Then,” Harry started. He lifted Louis’ chin up with his forefinger until their eyes met. “I want your lips around my cock,” Louis shuddered, mouth parting slightly. “And I want your hands to stay right where they are now while I fuck your pretty face. If you need to stop, feel free to tap my leg. Understood?” Louis closed his eyes as he nodded. “I need words, Louis. Tell me your color.”

Louis’ eyes snapped open. “Sorry. I’m— green, sir. I want it.”

Harry held his cock in his hand and rested it over Louis’ soft lips. “Go on, baby,” he encouraged.

Louis stuck his tongue out and enthusiastically lapped at the head, licking the precum that was collecting on the tip. He looked at Harry seductively through his eyelashes as he brought his tongue back into his mouth to taste him and hummed with pleasure. _Fucking minx._ Harry didn’t get the time to say the words out loud. Louis’ lips stretched over the head, sucking once, twice, and then sliding almost all the way down, cheeks hollowing. Harry’s cock was big, but Louis’ determination had always been bigger. Harry threw his head back as he let out a low grunt. The heat of Louis’ mouth enveloped him, his soft, wet tongue licking him as he worked his way up and down his cock.

Harry growled, hips slowly canting up, meeting with Louis’ mouth. He opened his eyes and looked down at him. Louis had his mouth full of cock, and yet he managed to be smirking. He knew he was good. He knew all the tricks that made Harry lose his mind. But Harry wasn’t going to let him do that.

His hand traveled down to get a hold on Louis’ hair. He held it in a tight fist and shoved Louis’ face down on his cock with force.

Louis’ whine vibrated around him, and he eagerly made his jaw go slack, mouth pliant and wider for Harry to do with it as he pleased. And so Harry did.

“Yes, baby. That’s it,” Harry groaned, guiding Louis’ head up and down at a slow pace.

When Louis’ mouth was wrapped around the head, he thrusted his hips up, making Louis swallow him down and choke on his cock a few times. Louis was breathing hard through his nose, saliva dripping down his chin. The room was filled with his ragged moans, Harry’s low grunting, and lewd slick sounds.

“God, look at you,” Harry drawled out after a few minutes, pulling Louis’ head back. His cock slid free from his mouth with a wet pop and it hit his stomach. Louis’ eyes were shiny with tears, his mouth swollen and red, his chest heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath. He looked roughed up, completely torn, and Harry had only just started with him. “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry said, admiration dripping off his voice. He moved his hand to cup Louis’ cheek, who mewled and leaned against his touch, a coy smile on his face.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Louis said.

Harry chuckled and bent down. Louis’ eyes shined with enthusiasm before they fluttered closed as soon as Harry’s mouth was pressing against his. With his hand on his cheek, Harry controlled the kiss. Slow, possessive, drinking Louis’ heady moans, tasting himself in his mouth.

Harry broke the kiss, and Louis trailed after him. He pouted when he understood Harry wasn’t going to keep kissing him, and he opened his eyes.

“What’s your color?” Harry asked.

“So green, like…the greenest ever,” Louis replied playfully. “Can I have another kiss now?”

Harry rolled his eyes but still obliged. He leaned forward and pecked his lips one, two, three times before pulling back.

“Come up here with me, baby,” Harry said as he helped Louis stand up. “Be a dear and fetch me the lube. It’s inside the red bag,” Harry pointed at said bag, sitting on the floor beside a bookshelf.

Louis nodded and turned around. Harry slid back on the bed until his back was plastered against the bed frame, and he parted his legs obscenely. He watched as Louis rummaged through his bag, his perky ass on full display. Harry gripped his cock and put pressure on the head. He was feeling on edge already.

“Found it,” Louis exclaimed triumphantly as he raised the lube in the air. He turned around, and he stilled when he noticed Harry had moved. His mouth gaped open and his eyes dropped to where Harry’s hand was holding his cock, hungrily staring at it.

He stood there, fidgeting on the spot. His own hard cock twitching, his hands gripping the lube.

“Come to me,” Harry growled, and Louis quickly obeyed. He eagerly jumped on the bed and crawled his way to Harry, kneeling between his spread out legs. “Give me the lube, baby,” Harry said, stretching his hand out.

Louis’ grip on the lube tightened. “Sir, can I finger myself open for you, please?” he asked with flaming red cheeks.

Harry glared at him, his hand still extended between them. “You always say you’re ready when you’re not. So no, Louis. Give me the lube.”

Louis huffed a breath out and handed Harry the lube.

“I know you’re on edge, baby,” Harry said as he opened the cap. “I am too,” he confessed. “Turn around and lay your chest on the bed, ass up facing me. Yeah, like that,” Harry praised as Louis did as told.

His back arched, legs spread out and bent at the knees, leaving his hole exposed. He rested his head over his folded arms and wiggled his ass in Harry’s direction.

Harry gave one cheek a quick slap, and Louis gasped.

“Behave,” Harry said.

He poured some lube over Louis’ puckered hole and ran his forefinger over it, savoring the way Louis shivered at the contact. Once his finger was coated enough, he wasted no time. He pressed his finger in, and Louis’ breath hitched. He placed his hand on Louis’ hip as he slowly slid his finger all the way inside.

“Another one, sir,” Louis whined, pushing his ass towards Harry’s hand.

“Quiet, Louis,” Harry warned.

It wasn’t surprising that Louis was so impatient; Harry was too. But Harry needed to make sure Louis was ready for him, he needed to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt him.

So he slid his finger out and then back in. He did it a few more times, circling his finger inside him, and then he added more lube and easily slipped another one in.

“God, such a hungry hole,” Harry groaned. He dropped the lube, and his now free hand gripped at the soft meat of Louis’ hips.

Louis mewled when he started scissoring his fingers. Harry looked at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, he was biting his arm and drooling all over it. Harry shoved a third finger in.

“Ohhh,” Louis moaned, a wrecked sound leaving his lips.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Harry said, fingers thrusting in and out.

Harry could do this forever. Just finger Louis until he came over and over again. But he needed to be inside him. _Now_. His body was on fire, his cock dripping precum, begging for release.

He pulled his fingers out, and Louis let out a muffled cry.

Harry shushed him. “It’s ok, baby. Come here. I want you to ride me,” Louis’ head shot up. He tried to move too quickly and almost fell forward. “Easy there,” Harry said, holding Louis by the hips. 

“ _Fuck_ , sorry.” 

“Let me just—“ Harry started. He lay down on his back. “There,” he helped Louis get on top of him.

He was sitting over Harry’s thighs, staring at Harry with expectant eyes.

“Go on, baby. I’m all yours.”

Louis swallowed hard enough to be audible. He licked his lips, and picked up the lube lying beside Harry. Louis’ slicked hand wrapped around Harry’s cock, and he hissed at the contact. It felt too maddeningly good. 

Louis coated his cock with lube, moved a bit to try to find the right position, and then he guided it towards his entrance. It was like they both were holding their breath as Harry’s cock pressed against his hole. Harry’s hands flew up to rest over Louis’ hips out of instinct. 

Louis pushed down a little, and the head slid in. Louis groaned, throwing his head back, one hand over Harry’s stomach to balance himself.

“It’s good. You’re doing so good,” Harry whispered, giving his hips a reassuring squeeze.

Louis’s body shuddered under his hands. His hard cock wet and curving against his stomach. When Harry looked back up at his flushed face, he noticed his eyes were squinting close, his brows drawing together in concentration as breathy whimpers rolled out of his debauched mouth. Harry felt mesmerized. He was having a hard time believing he wasn’t dreaming.

Louis’ beauty was out of this world, and Harry was so lucky he got to see him like this, to feel him like this.

He looked down to where their bodies were connected. Louis bottomed down with one last harsh push, and Harry was finally fully buried inside him.

“Fuck,” Louis cried out, his own hands moving to rest over his taut thighs.

He clenched around his cock, and Harry grunted, hands roughly gripping Louis’ hips. He tensed his legs to stop himself from trying to fuck up into Louis. And god, how he wanted to move, to bury his heels in the bed and thrust up into Louis until they were both satisfied. But he’d told Louis to ride him, and Louis was going to do exactly that.

Louis circled his hips and let out a broken moan. His face features softened, but his eyes remained closed.

“Look how pretty you look all stuffed with my cock,” Harry growled, one hand moving to pinch Louis’ nipple between his fingers.

“Oh,” Louis whined, body shaking.

“How’s it feel, baby?”

“Hmm,” Louis mumbled, sound lost inside his throat. He twisted his nipple a little bit rougher to get his attention. Louis’ eyes snapped open, gaze lustful and shiny as he looked at Harry. “Good, sir. So good,” he answered.

He slowly began going up and down his cock, until he found a good, pleasuring rhythm. Louis kept rolling his hips every time Harry was fully inside him, and then pulled all the way up until only the head was stretching his entrance, needy moans falling from his mouth. He kept clenching around Harry, the tight heat making his head spin.

Harry’s hands traveled all over his body, from his soft belly to his trembling thighs. His fingers occasionally flicking over Louis’ hardened nipples, drawing illicit sounds out of him. 

Louis picked up his pace, and Harry could tell the moment Louis found the perfect angle from the look on his face. His mouth formed an _‘oh’_ shape, but no sound came out as he kept impaling himself on Harry’s cock, hitting his prostate each time.

Harry’s hand gripped Louis’ ass while the other clasped around his jaw, pressing his thumb against Louis’ lips. Louis eagerly opened his mouth and enthusiastically sucked on it.

“Fuck, baby,” Harry groaned, giving Louis’ ass a quick slap.

It was all incoherent praises after that. Louis’ cock kept bouncing up and down as he rode him. Harry spat in his palm, and he grabbed his cock. He gave the head a firm grip, his thumb circling around the dripping slit. Louis’ movements became uncoordinated once Harry began stroking his cock, biting harshly on the thumb inside his mouth.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the heat forming low in his stomach, his heart beating erratically, hands tingling. His arousal became almost unbearable, and he was losing himself in the way his body was preparing for an orgasm.

“Oh, no, bad, this is— _no_ ,”

Louis’ voice ringed in his ears as he suddenly stopped moving. Harry’s eyes flew open.

“Baby, are you ok?” Harry urged, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Ouch, I’m— fucking hell,” Louis grunted and rapidly pushed up until Harry’s cock slipped out of him, harshly slapping against his stomach. “Cramp,” he hissed, face twisting with pain. He scrambled out of bed and stood beside it.

Harry blinked. He didn’t know what to do or say, so he awkwardly lay there, watching Louis wincing and trying to make the cramp go away. 

“Fuck. That one hurt like a bitch,” Louis grumbled, face finally going lax.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” he answered and sat back on the bed. “I was so close,” he said, a pout forming on his mouth.

“What a mean cramp,” Harry said, amusement coloring his voice.

“Don’t make fun of my pain, you bastard,” Louis said while chuckling. “You were close too.”

“So close,” Harry agreed. “Come lie down. Let me take care of you.”

Louis rested his back on the bed, a content sound leaving his mouth as he did, and Harry draped his own body over him, resting his arms beside his head. Louis’ arms looped around his neck.

“You want my mouth, baby?”

Louis shook his head. “Want you to fuck me, please. It was- good, so good. Please, sir.”

Harry wasn’t going to say no to that. Not when Louis asked so nicely.

He took his cock in his hand and searched haphazardly for Louis’ hole. He pushed all the way in with a quick thrust. They moaned in unison.

Louis’ legs wrapped around his hips, and Harry didn’t temper his thrusts. He furiously shoved his cock in and out of Louis’ body. Louis yelped when Harry found that sweet spot inside him and kept nailing it over and over again.

Louis buried his face in his throat and latched his mouth there, roughly nipping at the soft skin and rolling his tongue over the marks he was leaving.

Harry’s orgasm took no time to build up again, his body aching and begging for relief.

His hand traveled between their bodies to wrap around Louis’ hard cock. “Come on, baby,” Harry grunted, his strokes matching his fierce thrusts. “Come for me.”

Louis’ mouth surged up to meet with Harry’s. His kisses were wet and sloppy, and he bit down hard on Harry’s bottom lip as he came, cock spurting come and hitting his stomach, some landing on Harry’s hand.

Harry followed suit, ears ringing and body tensing up as he came inside Louis with a hoarse growl, Louis milking him through it. The intensity of his orgasm made his head fuzzy, and his body felt spent.

His softening cock slipped out of his hole, and Louis shivered. Harry rested both arms beside Louis’ head, and they intensely stared at each other for just a few seconds that felt infinite.

There had been a lot of times in Harry’s life when he’d wanted to tell Louis he'd always love him, and this time was one of those.

But it probably wasn’t what Louis wanted to hear right now, so instead he kissed him to quiet down the nagging need to say the words that were threatening to spill out of his mouth.

Louis was pliant under him, his hand playing with Harry’s hair, and he kept drinking all of Louis’ satisfied sighs. They kissed tenderly for a few minutes, getting lost in all the sensations.

Then, Louis untangled his legs and arms from around Harry and planted one last kiss on Harry’s lips before pulling away. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Louis whispered as he squirmed away from under Harry and got up.

The sudden change left Harry feeling disoriented. He only managed to nod as he watched Louis walk out of the room. He sat on the bed, a nasty feeling building up in his chest and trying to make itself noticed, his mind racing with a million thoughts.

The running water woke him up from the trance he’d been in. He shook his head and got up. He needed to do something. _Anything_.

Harry picked up his journal from inside his bag and the guitar he’d lately been carrying everywhere. He got back in bed, found a comfortable sitting position, and started playing a few random chords just to get familiar with its sounds again. A soothing melody was playing in his head, and it wasn’t much longer before he could play it on the guitar.

He wrote a few random words in the journal. _Lonely. Jealous. Baby._ But no lyrics came to mind.

All Harry knew was that the love of his life was a few meters away from him, taking a shower after they’d had sex, and he’d never felt more alone. Louis hadn’t left yet, but it felt as if he was already gone. He could still be in the same room, but he wasn’t here with Harry anymore.

“Sounds nice,” Louis’ voice interrupted Harry’s train of thoughts. He instinctively closed his journal, and Louis’ eyes followed the movement. He quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment on it.

He was wearing the shirt he’d been wearing when he’d arrived and his briefs. He was finishing drying his hair with a towel. 

“I felt inspired,” Harry murmured. Louis dropped the towel on a chair near him and walked towards the bed. 

Louis hummed as he lay down on his back beside him. “Is it going to be a happy song? Or a sad one?”

“I don’t know yet,” he replied truthfully.

Once Harry had gathered enough courage, he turned his head and looked at Louis. 

Louis’ eyes were closed, his face calm and his breathing steady.

Harry had been feeling uncertain, but now he just felt stupid. And here Louis was, peacefully lying beside him like Harry wasn’t next to him trying to understand how he was going to deal with a hole in his heart for the next couple of months.

He got up and left his guitar in its case, his journal in his bag, and walked into the bathroom.

After he was done with his shower, feeling clean and more relaxed, he walked back into the room. Louis was already asleep. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand, lay down next to him, and although it took him some time, he managed to fall asleep.

The next morning, he woke up to an empty bed and a text from Louis. 

_Sorry I left without saying goodbye but I had a plane to catch. Take care xx_

Harry read the text one more time, and answered:

_Have a safe flight._

He dropped the phone on the pillow beside him as soon as he hit the send button.

——————

By the end of June, Harry was in Greece to shoot scenes, and he barely had time to do anything outside of work.

It was finally Friday, and it was one of those days where everything just felt completely off. Harry had woken up with a headache, and it had only gone downhill from there. He kept messing his scenes up one way or another; forgetting his lines, standing in the wrong spot, tripping a few times over the camera’s cables.

Eventually, the director approached him and told him to take the rest of the day off. He said something along the lines of Harry not being in the right headspace he needed him to be in order to achieve the spirit the scenes demanded, and Harry could only lower his head down in shame and agree.

The car ride back to his hotel seemed never ending, and Harry contemplated asking the driver to speed up before shutting down the idea. He hadn’t noticed how much sleep he’d been lacking, but now the road ahead darkened as he couldn’t stop his eyelids from fluttering close, and the harsh way his head bumped as he almost fell asleep jerked him awake every time.

He’d neglected his sleep, too anxious to lie down for more than four hours a day before rising and going to set to try and give a perfect performance. His body was letting him know it had enough; he needed to rest.

His feet carried him directly to the bed as soon as he entered the room. Harry hastily dropped on the mattress, a yawn rolling out of his mouth. He needed to shower. He needed to brush his teeth. He needed to text his co-workers to tell them how sorry he felt for ruining a good film day.

He needed to sleep.

Harry didn’t know if his eyes had been closed the whole time, or if he’d just snapped them shut. Either way, he was already feeling the fatigue completely setting in. He yawned one last time and fell asleep.

——————

Harry was enjoying a delicious breakfast in a rustic coffee shop near his hotel. He was sitting at one of the tables outside, the breath-taking view of the Mediterranean ocean in front of him, and the warm morning sun caressing his skin. He ordered a black coffee and a piece of Alevropita –a crispy feta pie– that easily dissolved inside his watering mouth, savoring the rich, new flavors. 

He brought a forkful of pie up to his mouth as he kept his eyes glued to the screen of his phone, reading the news. His heart skipped a beat when he fully processed the words staring back at him, almost in a mocking way. 

_Louis had come out._

Harry tried swallowing the pie, but he managed to fail that simple task when the air just wouldn’t reach his lungs, and ended up coughing instead. A man sitting near him gave him a worried look, and he waved his hand dismissively to indicate that he was fine. 

Reaching blindly for the cup of coffee, he quickly took a long sip while checking the source of the news; it turned out to be a reliable one.

He wasn’t choking anymore. Why did he feel like he still couldn’t breath?

The interview Louis had done wasn’t much different to the others he’d been doing, talking about his upcoming album and how excited he was to release it. The dating question came up without fail, and instead of dodging it as they both had learnt to do back when One Direction first formed, Louis stated that he’d enjoyed pride month all by himself. Of course that piqued the interviewer’s attention as she asked him if that could possibly mean Louis was part of the lgbtq+ community. Louis gladly confirmed it.

Harry abruptly stopped reading and put his phone down.

After the last time they’d slept together, Harry found himself receiving texts from Louis, often just to talk about trivial things, but the abrupt change from silence to short chats was enough to ignite the burning fire of Harry’s hope. He couldn’t help feeling like Louis was opening up to him again in his own way. Clearly, Harry had been wrong. 

Harry remembered the countless times they’d talked in the past about how they would come out, and all those sleepless nights tangled around each other spent imagining how they would tell the world they were in love.

Harry wasn’t delusional; he knew things were different now. Still, he liked to think Louis would share something this important with him. Reality yet again slapped him in the face, reminding him of how fragile their relationship was now.

He grabbed his phone and opened up Louis’ chat, typing “congratulations” a few times and deleting it right away. He stared at the Mediterranean ocean for a moment just so he could give himself some time to figure out what to say. Unfortunately, the incredible sight presented before his eyes didn’t offer any type of support. 

_Proud of you!_

He hit send before he could backtrack and waited, hand gripping his phone tightly.

_Thanks, mate!_

So, that was it.

A sob made its way from somewhere achingly deep inside his body and got stuck in his throat. Harry refused to cry in public, but the brim of his eyes watered too soon, and he knew the splitting seams of his control wouldn’t hold much longer.

He paid for his food and rushed back to the hotel, grateful he’d decided to have breakfast a few blocks away from it. A few tears rolled down his cheeks as he sped up his pace. He was glad the streets were sort of empty, but he still felt some eyes on him. He didn’t dare stop.

Harry wanted to be there for Louis, but it seemed Louis no longer cared whether Harry was there or not. 

Once he reached the hotel, he quickly strode to his room. He closed the door and ungracefully slumped against it. The quiet, dimly lit room enveloped him; he finally collapsed down to the floor, sobbing.

He’d never felt more alone than in the company of his own misery.

——————

When August arrived, production gave the whole crew a week off. Harry had boarded the first plane back to London, and he texted his therapist on the way.

The next day, Harry woke up still jet-lagged and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, not a single thought in his head. He had his much needed therapy session in an hour, but rolling off his warm, comfortable bed today took up more energy than should have been necessary.

He hadn’t even unpacked his bags yet, so he just rummaged through them. It was rather cold and rainy outside, so he put on a yellow hoodie, a long black coat, and a pair of thick black joggers. He combed his fingers through his hair to make it look presentable, and he walked out of the house.

Harry took the subway just to be near people; needing to hear all the chattering and the loud noises of the streets instead of whatever was happening inside his head. Surprisingly, nobody recognized him. He felt fidgety as he climbed the stairs two steps at a time. The calm drizzle was getting heavier, and he regretted not bringing an umbrella with him.

He hurriedly strode the last three blocks, and he rang once he was standing in front of his therapist’s building, tapping his foot as he waited for her to buzz him in.

“Welcome, Harry,” Therese greeted him as she opened the door, stepping aside to let him in.

The office’s heater was on, immediately soothing Harry as he left the freezing city behind him. There was a floor-to-ceiling window where he could see the now pouring rain falling down. The brown carpet in the middle of the room —the one Harry had once asked where she’d gotten— had a few too many wrinkles for his liking. Harry noticed she’d gotten more plants over the time he was away, making the space feel more alive.

A painting of what looked like an infinite staircase had replaced the dog painting Harry liked so much, and it was hanging on the dark orange wall like it had always been there; like the dog painting had never existed. 

There were too many new things, and Harry was tired of changes.

“Hello, Therese,” Harry said as his feet carried him to the chaise lounge. He sat down and took off his wet coat, which he rested over the wooden chair next to him.

Therese walked to her desk. She sat down in her blue chair, a fluffy, black scarf hanging from it. The light from the computer in front of her lit up her young face, and she adjusted her glasses over the bridge of her nose, a friendly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Therese seemed to be waiting for him to get comfortable, so he picked up the nearest pillow and placed it under his head before lying down.

“How are you?” she asked.

A loaded question to start off with. 

“I’m mostly busy,” he said, staring at the white ceiling.

“Oh yes, the movie!” Therese exclaimed. “How’s that going? No spoilers, please.”

Harry chuckled. “It’s going really good. Yorgos is an amazing director, and I also work with really talented and dedicated people, so I’m learning new things every day. It’s been a really fulfilling experience.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said as she typed at her computer. “And emotionally? How has life been treating you?”

Right. Back to the loaded question. Harry peered her way. Therese was looking back at him with a reassuring grin. He turned his head again and took a deep shuddering breath, preparing himself to open up. 

“I had sex with Louis,” Harry whispered, as if he was hoping she wouldn’t catch his words.

It was kind of pathetic. The last time he’d talked to Therese, he’d told her that he wasn’t going to have sex with Louis ever again. They both agreed that it was for the best if Harry took some time apart from Louis to sort out his emotions. And now, he was once again in her office, telling her about his failure.

“Did you seek him out?” The now quick typing was making his hands sweat. The keys sounded too harsh, almost like an explosion in the serene office.

Harry shook his head repeatedly. “No. He did,” he said, swallowing down the knot he was feeling in his throat. “But I surrendered so fast, so easily. He just said a few words, and I just— I gave him whatever he wanted,” he waited for a second before continuing. “I was weak,” he admitted.

“Love makes us feel weak, Harry, but that doesn’t mean you’re weak,” Therese reasoned. “You’re used to giving him all he asks for because that’s always made you feel good.”

“It’s not healthy,” Harry grumbled.

“In this situation, I’m afraid it’s not,” she agreed.

The conversation felt too similar to the one they’d had the last session. They’d talked about the same thing they were talking about now. This time, she was being kinder, not as crude. Harry didn’t know which one he preferred. Maybe he needed her to repeat the same thing over and over again, until it stuck into his thick skull.

“He came out last month,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“Did he?”

Did she genuinely not know about it? It was all over the news. Well, the world didn’t spin around them, even if sometimes it felt like it did.

“Yeah. I’m happy for him,” he replied shortly.

A pause. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“I’m happy for him. _I am_. It’s just—“ Harry’s voice bobbled. “I heard about it through some stupid interview. I mean, he didn’t actually have to tell me he was planning to do it. I know that. But… it would’ve been nice.”

Therese hummed, encouraging him to keep going.

“We’ve been texting a lot over the last few months, and he said we were friends,” Harry explained. “He knows he can count on me.”

“But your friendship is not—” she paused, like she was looking for the right word. “…usual,” she finally settled on.

Harry grimaced. “No, it’s not,” he agreed, defeated.

His eyes stung, tears threatening to spill out. All those nasty thoughts running through his mind were poking at every vulnerable wound inside him, leaving him no choice but to acknowledge them.

Therese kept quiet. She often did this —let the silence prolong— like she knew Harry wanted to say something else and was patiently waiting for him to feel comfortable enough to talk about it.

Exposing his insecurities, all those things that kept him up at night, was too difficult to do no matter how many times he’d done it before. Harry knew she wouldn’t judge him; it still didn’t make it any easier to admit his mistakes, to reveal what he’d been trying to suppress for the longest time because he didn’t know how to deal with the emotions that came with thinking about how much he’d messed up.

“I can’t stop thinking about our last fight,” he started, his voice wobbly. “We just kept screaming over each other, and I couldn’t stop the word vomit. I just—“ he pressed the heels of his palms harshly into his eyes. “I blamed him for almost everything that went wrong. I said horrible things that I knew would hurt him. He showed me his weaknesses, and I used them against him. What kind of evil person does that?”

At this point, crying was inevitable. He dropped his hands to his sides, gripping the cushion under him as tears ran down his face.

“Breathe, Harry,” Therese’s voice echoed in his head. He didn’t understand her at first, ears ringing with the sounds of his wrenching heart. He gasped for air. “That’s good. Keep breathing. In and out,” she kept repeating over and over again.

After following her instructions for a few minutes, Harry felt like he could properly breathe again. Therese got up and silently offered him a tissue; he accepted it.

The silence felt oppressive now, like it was waiting for him to start crying again. He was so tired of crying. 

“I’m just afraid that he won’t ever forgive me,” he managed to murmur, tissue scrunched between his fingers. 

“He’s hurt you too. He’s been hurting you these past months, and he knows that. Does that make him evil?”

“No, he’s— it’s not like he’s purposefully trying to hurt me. I know that.”

“Then why are you only blaming yourself? You were fighting, and anger is a ruthless enemy. You hurt him with your words, he hurt you with his. You both made mistakes,” Therese said. “Sometimes, relationships fail, and the people we love scar us. But once we hit rock bottom, the only way out is going up. You need to figure out what it is you actually need right now and then move towards that.”

Harry needed a lot of things, but none of the needs that first came to mind were beneficial to him. How was he going to move on with his life when a part of him kept holding on to the past and all the what-ifs? When a part of him would always belong to Louis, and there was nothing he could possibly do about it?

“I know I have to work things out and try to…move on, but— I don’t think I can say no to him,” he confessed, feeling ashamed.

“You don’t think you can, or you don’t want to say no to him?”

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, looking down at the wet tissue in his hand, frowning. “Sometimes, I’m fine. I mean, I keep myself busy, so it’s truly okay. But then I have those days where I think about how I’m still waiting for him to want me — _us_ — again. He says he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, but then he appears out of nowhere and wants to have sex with me… it confuses me. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this,” Harry lamented, uncertainty creeping inside his body and filling him with anxiety.

“The only way to truly know what’s going on inside his head, how he perceives your relationship now, is to have a long and honest conversation about it. So what about talking to him? It’ll make you feel better to let him know how you feel, too,” she encouraged him.

Harry just nodded. He didn’t think Louis would want to talk about it; he hadn’t before, no matter how embarrassingly persistent Harry had been.

Therese told him their time was up, and Harry left the apartment with a heavy feeling in his chest, weighing him down even more than it had when he walked into her office.

——————

October arrived and brought along the wrap of the movie. Harry was currently on his way back to London after a long night at the wrap party. Body drained of energy, the aftertaste of the sweet drinks he gulped down still present on his tongue, and a sore throat from engaging in way too many conversations; at least he’d made some important connections.

Harry had made a quick stop at his hotel just to get all his bags before he’d taken a cab to the Prague Airport, not even bothering to change out of his party outfit; a green jacket over a cream-coloured shirt, some navy wide leg trousers, and red leather boots. He boarded his scheduled flight, getting comfortable in his seat as the thrill and anticipation of being back home settled in his bones. 

Harry took out his phone, reading Mitch’s text promising to pick him up when Harry arrived in London. Just then, a new text notification appeared on the screen.

_Text me when you land, please. Have a safe flight._

Louis’ text read.

_Will do. Thanks xx_

Harry hadn’t followed his therapist’s recommendation to talk to Louis about this complicated situation between them. Trying to postpone it was an act of cowardice, but Harry found himself torn between wanting a solution and fearful of its results.

They hadn’t slept together since May, and everything seemed to be heading toward trying to behave the way friends usually did. Their text conversations were filled with messages about their everyday lives, and often, Louis would send him memes that Harry wasn’t proud to admit he didn’t understand. 

They were going to have to talk about it eventually; maybe that would make Harry stop wishing for something he couldn’t have— hearing from Louis’ mouth that he was finally done with him, that he didn’t want to be with Harry in the way he desperately yearned to be with Louis.

Even then, how was Harry going to start the process of falling out of love? How was he going to stop seeing Louis as his soulmate? As someone Harry wanted to come home to and be able to kiss, to go to bed with, to marry?

He skimmed through the last few texts they’d exchanged now that his mind had been disturbed awake and the fatigue Harry had felt was nothing but a distant memory. Harry had texted Louis to tell him the filming had wrapped, and Louis had congratulated him. He had also sent him a mirror selfie showing off his party outfit, and Louis had replied _‘looks fancy’,_ accompanied by an okay-hand emoji.

That was how their usual conversations went nowadays, friendly chatting.

When Harry walked past the gates, Mitch was already waiting for him. 

“Welcome back, pal,” Mitch greeted him as he came closer, arms coming around him in a tight embrace.

“Missed you,” Harry whispered, squeezing back.

“I missed your ugly mug, too,” Harry huffed out a laugh as he let go of his friend. “Here, let me help you with those,” Mitch extended a hand and grabbed a suitcase before Harry could stop him.

Mitch told him about the awful weather they had the last few days as they walked to the exit. _Apparently, London weather can and will get worse_. Mitch said, and Harry let out a chuckle.

A cold breeze hit his face as they walked out of the airport. He didn’t remember the last days of October being so cold. He should have considered changing into more comfortable clothes and putting on a warm jacket. 

He followed Mitch to his parked car, and after putting his luggage in the truck, they hopped in and put their seatbelts on. Harry sent Louis a quick text letting him know he was in London and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

Mitch put the heating on. “I’m only going to say this because you’ve been away for a long time and I terribly missed you. Will the shotgun do the honors?” he asked as he pointed at the radio.

“Oh, no. That’s fine. You can pick the music,” Harry said, rubbing his cold hands together in an attempt to warm them up.

“Is that so?” Mitch teased, a grin on his face. “What has the film industry done to you?”

Harry snorted, shaking his head. Mitch always made it feel so easy coming back home, treating Harry like he had never really left and rapidly slipping into their usual banter. Harry had missed him terribly.

Mitch picked the music and started the car, driving them away from the airport.

“How are you?” Harry asked, London streets filling his eyes.

“Pretty good. That project I told you about?” Harry hummed, letting Mitch know he remembered. “Yeah, it’s been fun, and it’s almost finished. I’ll have more time to spend with Sarah now, so that’s always a good thing.”

“I’m really glad to hear that. How is she, by the way?”

“She’s doing fine. She missed you loads. We all did,” the traffic light in front of them shifted to red, and Mitch turned his head to properly look at Harry. “How are _you_?”

The way Mitch was staring at him now reminded Harry of those looks his mom would give him when he was younger; the ones that turned her eyes tender and wordlessly said _you can trust me._

“Excited about the movie,” Harry replied, choosing to ignore the seriousness of the question. Mitch quirked his brow at him. “I’m still trying to process it all, but I’m quite content with how it turned out. It was a really good experience.” 

The traffic light blinked green, and Mitch turned his gaze back to the road. “I’m glad to hear that,” Mitch said gently.

The music smoothly transitioned from alternative rock to jazz, and Harry leaned his head back into the car seat, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I miss making music,” Harry murmured, nostalgia dripping off every word. “Eventually I’d like to go back to the studio. I’ve got all these melodies in my head, and I’ve been writing every chance I get. It’s all—“ Harry waved his hand around, pursed lips twisting to one side. “— mostly mopey songs.”

“What a cruel thing love is,” Mitch said. 

Harry knew he was only trying to sympathise with his situation, and he truly appreciated that, but his friend couldn’t understand the severity of it all— not really. Mitch had never had to bear watching the love of his life walk away from him, not even giving their relationship a second chance.

How fortunate it must be to be unaware of the torments of the heart.

“Can’t argue with that,” Harry said, a tired grin on his face.

“I won’t pressure you to talk about it if you don’t feel comfortable—“ Mitch started, voice dropping to a softer tone as if he assumed speaking too loudly would scare Harry off.

Harry quickly straightened up in his seat, brows knitted together as he looked at Mitch. “It’s not that. It’s just—“ Harry interrupted.

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself. I get it, okay?” Mitch continued, looking at Harry for only a second before turning his head back towards the road. “I just wanted you to know that whatever it is that’s been bothering you; I’m here for you. I care.”

“I promise you that I know that,” Harry reassured him. He was so lucky to have such a good person and friend in his life. “It’s just...Louis, you know?” Harry shrugged, not caring about being vague; Mitch would understand what he meant.

“So, I assume he still wants to be just friends,” Mitch said, catching up. Harry whispered out a _yeah_. “And how’s that going?”

“It’s going fine. Except for the times when he comes around, and you know, we end up having sex. And I love him, and he—” Harry trailed off. “So, it just happens.”

Mitch blew out a breath. “Now that’s something I didn’t expect. Wait, wait—“ Mitch stopped Harry when he tried to speak. “What I mean is; I get it, sort of. When you love someone so much that you take whatever they can or want to give you.”

“It’s pathetic,” Harry huffed, slouching back into the car seat.

“Well, love is pathetic, pal. Get with the program.”

Even in his self-deprecating state, Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Mitch was grinning, crinkles by his eyes.

Harry licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I’m going to do something about it, though. I just— it’s kind of been tearing me apart. I only need to figure out how I’ll deal with the heartbreak.”

“Well, he already dumped you. You can’t get your heart broken twice.”

That wasn’t entirely true. 

Carrying a broken heart felt like holding on to the shreds of a shattered glass. Bloody hands, an empty chest, and a mind reeling with hopeful thoughts of _I can mend this._ The heart will eventually heal itself, putting piece by piece back in place, but a gap will always remain.

After a broken heart unsuccessfully stuck itself back together, it will forever await for the horror of its own massacre all over again.

“That was a bit harsh, sorry,” Mitch apologized after a stretched silence between the two.

“No, no, it’s fine. I guess it’s easier to make sense of things when you’re not too deep into the shithole.”

“I’ll pull you out whenever you need me to, you just say the words,” Mitch said.

They spent the rest of the drive peacefully listening to colorful jazz and catching up with everything they’d been doing while being apart.

When they arrived, Mitch helped him get his things out of the trunk.

“You want to come in? We can order some pizza, play some music,” Harry suggested, placing his bags on the ground so he could search for the house keys.

“I don’t want to be rude, but you look like you’re about to faceplant into the floor in the next five seconds. You’re tired; I can tell. We can hang out any other day. Now go get some beauty sleep.”

Harry thanked him one last time with a hug. He picked up his things and made his way to the front door. He turned the key and the door opened.

The first thing his eyes landed on was Louis.

Harry slowly blinked once, and then once more. He carefully dropped his suitcase and bags on the ground and rubbed at his eyes; maybe he was dreaming. He was exhausted after all.

Louis was still there, kneeling naked on the rug of the living room. The glass coffee table that usually sat beside the couch was nowhere to be seen. Louis was between the lit fireplace and the couch; the light from the fireplace cascading over his exposed skin. He looked like a gift sent from above, and any other time Harry would already be strolling forward to give them both what they wanted, but this time he stayed paralyzed in his spot.

It’d been a long time since Louis had last kneeled for him. Back when they were together, sometimes Louis would drop to his knees, an enthusiastic display of submission, to let Harry know that he wanted him to fully take over. They both knew how to make it work, what they enjoyed, what they didn’t, and each time they would have sex, it would be completely filled with trust, pleasure and so much love.

Did Louis even love him anymore? Harry knew Louis wouldn’t just come back to him only for sex when he was potentially still seeing someone else, even if the thought made Harry’s blood boil. Louis must still feel something deep for him, but was it as deep as Harry’s love? Did Louis’ love for him still invade every part of his soul? Did his love wake him up in the middle of the night just to remind him it was still there?

Harry knew he should’ve stopped it the first time Louis had come over after their breakup, claiming he had just wanted to give him back the house key (and never actually had). But right now, the strings holding Harry together loosened up their tight grip, feeling heady with the thought of giving in, exactly like he had done in the past.

Louis didn’t acknowledge his entrance, eyes casted down and staring at the floor.

Harry’s mouth fished a few times. He was having a hard time trying to form a sentence that would make sense.

“Just get up, Louis,” Harry could finally muster up , voice coming out with an edge.

He didn’t have the energy to deal with Louis right now, even if his body was responding to Louis kneeling in front of him. What did his body know anyway? It had betrayed him too many times before.

“No,” Louis murmured, still looking down at the floor.

Harry raised a brow, taken aback by the answer. 

“This is ridiculous,” Harry said, trying to sound more exasperated than he actually was. “I said; get up.”

“And I said _no_ ,” Louis said, eyes still glued to the floor, not letting any emotions show in his voice.

What was Louis trying to accomplish here?

Harry had been handling their “friendship” just fine. He didn’t like it, of course he didn’t, he was in love with him for god's sake. Louis hadn’t shown any sort of interest in wanting to ever have sex with Harry again after Rome, so he had assumed it’d been their last time, even though they had had so many of those already that Harry had lost count.

Harry closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Louis, I’m tired. I haven’t slept in almost 20 hours, and I really — _really—_ can’t do this right now.”

When there was no answer, Harry opened his eyes to find Louis with his gaze still fixed to the ground, chest coming up and down in a steady breathing pattern. Harry huffed out an incredulous laugh. He couldn’t do this right now; he wasn’t even sure he was entirely processing what was happening. 

He picked up his luggage and headed upstairs, leaving a kneeling Louis in the living room.

His breathing was ragged when he made it to the second floor, but it had nothing to do with storming up the stairs. He needed to calm down.

When Harry entered his bedroom, he noticed the bed was made. There weren't any water bottles on his nightstand or clothes hanging off the chair by the window; even the wood floor seemed to be shining. Had he tidied up before he had gone back to Prague? Maybe. He didn’t really remember now.

The room was freezing, and even though the last thing he wanted was to go downstairs and affront the situation that was happening there, his body was already missing the warmth that the fireplace was spreading all around the living room.

Harry turned on the heater and left his luggage by the closet. He took one longing look at the bed before shaking his head and heading toward the bathroom. Harry needed to sleep, but he wasn’t actually going to avoid Louis when the other man was still downstairs; assuming Louis was still in the house since he didn’t hear any front door action.

The bathroom was white-clean, and Harry definitely hadn’t cleaned it before he’d left. That could only mean that Louis had been tidying up before Harry had arrived. It should feel weird knowing that Louis —his ex— was wandering around his house, cleaning after Harry’s messes.

Harry couldn’t fool anyone. He still thought of the house as _theirs_ , even though Louis didn’t live here anymore. That led him to wonder how often had Louis come here over the past months? He still had the key, and he’d known Harry had been away filming. Had Louis been coming here every day or only on the weekends? Had he slept on what once used to be their bed? Had he felt safe in the house? Or had he needed Harry here to do so, just as much as Harry had been needing him?

Harry stripped off his expensive attire and uncaringly dropped it on the floor. He noticed Louis had replaced the old bottles of shampoo and conditioner with the ones they used to buy when they lived together, the same ones Harry had stopped buying after realizing he’d been pathetically crying at the sight of hair products. The memories made his heart clench. Did Louis remember? Because Harry could never forget.

Harry became more lucid after the quick shower. He patted his body dry and walked back into the now warm bedroom. He rummaged around his suitcase and decided to dress in a comfortable white shirt that was at least one size bigger than his actual size and black joggers. He took a deep breath before opening the door and heading downstairs.

Harry was expecting Louis to be in the kitchen, or somewhere else in the house. To be honest, he thought Louis might be gone by the time he returned to the living room.

What he certainly didn’t expect was to find Louis in the same position he’d last seen him; still kneeling.

He hadn’t even fetched a pillow to put beneath him—his knees must be killing him by now. Harry suppressed the need to reprimand him for it.

“What are you even doing here?” Harry asked, standing only a few steps away in front of Louis.

This time, Louis’ eyes slowly traveled up and met Harry’s. 

“I want to show you—“ Louis paused for a moment to swallow, his tongue sticking out to lick over his lips. “I want to show you that I can still be good for you.”

Harry wanted to huff out a laugh, but surely Louis would feel like he was mocking him, and Harry didn’t want to cause him any uneasiness. 

Why? Why was he always caring about Louis more than he cared about himself? Will he ever prioritize his needs, his emotions before Louis’?

“Well, you’re definitely doing an awful job at it considering I asked you twice to get up, and you didn’t obey,” Harry saw Louis’ intention to bring himself up to his feet in his eyes, and Harry quickly raised his hand in the air, motioning for him to stop. “Be clear, Louis. What do you want?”

Louis gave him a troubled look. “I already told you,” he said. His gaze dropped down only for a few seconds before he looked up again. Eyes flashed with defiance as he gritted out; “What? Do you want me to beg?”

“Oh, baby, you always end up begging either way,” Harry scoffed, the words making Louis’ body involuntarily shiver. “I’m trying to understand this, you know. I thought you wanted to be just friends, and this is definitely not friendly-like.”

“If you don’t want me anymore, all you have to do is say so,” Louis snarled. He got up, his soft cock bouncing with the movement. 

“It’s not about that—“ Harry winced, drifting his eyes away from Louis’ groin. “I’m just trying to understand you. It’s definitely not about whether or not I still want you.”

Louis crossed his arms, and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He was the only one in the room without clothes, and yet he held a strong confidence in his stance that made him look powerful. For a moment, Harry felt like he was the naked one standing in the warm living room instead.

“If you still wanted me, you would be fucking me right now. You could never control yourself when you saw me on my knees,” Louis growled as he began prowling closer to Harry.

“I used to act like that because we were in a relationship. But now? I barely know how to behave around you anymore,” Harry admitted. Although the confession tasted bitter in his mouth, finally being able to say it out loud liberated him from the pressure he’d been feeling in his chest. Harry had never thought he would be standing in front of Louis without knowing how to approach him, not knowing what to say or do.

What if Louis felt the same way? Perhaps he’d gone so long hiding from Harry that he’d forgotten how to behave around him too. Perhaps Louis didn’t know what to do to fix this either.

They’d been here so many times in the past months that it almost seemed tradition by now. They had gone way too long without saying how they truly felt.

“I still trust you,” Louis spoke softly, already standing in front of Harry. Louis sheepishly raised his hand, staring at Harry through the fluttering fringe of his eyelashes, as if asking for permission. Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he followed the movement, voice stuck in his throat. The hand was delicately rested on Harry’s chest, long and slim fingers feeling the beat of Harry’s heart under them. Harry tilted his chin up and found gleaming blue eyes staring right at his soul. The feel of Louis’ touch and his powerful gaze pinning him down were too much to handle, and Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He threw his head back, squinting his eyes closed.

Louis continued, rushing over the words; “You always take such good care of me. And you— you don’t just give me what I want, you give me what I need, because you know what I need better than I do.”

Harry inhaled through his nose before he blinked his eyes open. Louis’ face exposed his every insecurity, everything he was feeling at the moment. Yet Harry burned with greediness; he wanted to know more. He wanted to grab both of his shoulders and shake Louis, demand him to talk to him, to tell Harry everything that he was keeping to himself.

Harry refused to believe this was all he wanted from Harry; it certainly wasn’t all he wanted from Louis. Harry wanted honesty and the life they had back. He wanted to kiss Louis until the past months were nothing but forgotten nightmares. He wanted to make Louis come so many times that he’d be a crying mess by the end. Harry wanted too much, too furiously.

“This is so manipulative, Louis,” Harry rasped out.

“I’m— fuck. You’re right. I’m sorry,” Louis tried to pull his hand away but Harry swiftly caught it midair and wrapped his fingers around his wrist. “Harry,” Louis gasped, voice full of uncertainty.

“Wait. Just— give me a second,” Harry said, giving Louis’ wrist a delicate reassuring squeeze.

“No, no. You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll just go and we can forget—“

“Just give me a second, baby. Please?” Harry begged, dizzy with the feeling of every single one of his defenses crumbling down.

Louis blinked slowly, ragged breath coming out through his parted lips. He gave Harry a quick nod.

They stood there, eyes locked together, Louis’ wrist docile in Harry’s grip. The long overdue conversation was dancing around the room, waiting to be acknowledged. It would have to wait.

Right now, Harry was going to give Louis exactly what he needed.

Harry carefully let go of Louis’ wrist. “Go stand behind the couch, facing the fireplace,” he ordered, voice dripping with authority.

Louis’ breath hitched, eyes searching all over Harry’s face. His tongue slipped out to wet his dry lips. Harry arched an eyebrow.

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

“No,” Louis gulped. “Sir,” he added in a dreamy voice. He moved toward the couch and stood behind it, his back to Harry. Warm light showering over smooth, pale skin. Those full, round ass cheeks slightly bouncing in a luring way with the movement. Harry let out a thrilled hum, and his cock stirred at the view. Harry’s fingertips itched with the need to trace every curve, every bump, every single spot on Louis’ body.

“Rest your hands over the couch,” Louis did as instructed, both hands now resting over the couch’s arm. “Good boy,” Harry enjoyed the way Louis’ body shivered at the praise. He gave his own cock a tight squeeze through his joggers. “Wait for me and don’t move.”

“Where are you going?” Louis whipped his head around to look behind him at Harry, but he quickly turned his head back to the fireplace when he realized what he’d done. “Sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t— It’s none of my business.”

“It certainly is none of your business,” Harry agreed, a darker tone coloring his voice. “Where has all that trust you just told me about gone, Louis?”

Louis’ back muscles stiffened. “Sir, I’m—I trust you,” Louis rushed out. “It’s just— I’m a little…nervous.”

“What’s your co—“

“Green,” Louis blurted out before Harry could finish asking the question. “Sorry, _shit_ , I keep fucking this up.”

Harry let the interruption slip. “You don’t have to think. You just have to do what I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Louis said, firmer this time.

Harry walked out of the living room without saying another word. He always needed those extra few minutes alone; sometimes he did it consciously, and other times his body moved instinctively. It was also a way to give Louis the privacy to settle.

Now, Harry needed to be quick before the absence of his presence expanded through the room and distressed Louis.

Harry went to his bedroom to grab the lube he kept in his nightstand drawer and rushed back to the living room. Louis hadn’t moved a bit.

Harry walked toward him until they were only a few inches apart, leaving the lube beside him on the floor. He extended his hand, delicately placing it on Louis’ tender back. Louis shuddered, his lovely responsive body instantly melting under Harry’s touch. All pliant and ready.

“Good boy,” Harry said, the praise easily slipping out of his mouth. “I told you I’d be quick, didn’t I?”

“You did, sir,” Louis agreed, whispering the words.

“Lean over the couch— like _this_ ,” Harry said, his hand on Louis’ back guiding him in that position.

Louis leaned over, his stomach now against the arm of the couch, his upper body resting over the cushions, and he placed his head on top of his folded arms. This way his ass was up in the air, fully exposing him to Harry’s every whim. Harry felt heady with lust, cock achingly hard and pressing against the soft material of his joggers.

“Mitch picked me up from the airport and dropped me at home,” Harry’s steady voice filled the quiet room. He moved his hand from Louis’ back to his full hips, drawing small circles with his thumb. “Did you know I asked him to hang out tonight?” Harry rhetorically asked. “What do you think would’ve happened if he’d accepted and walked in to find you kneeling naked, just waiting there for me to ravish you?”

Louis’ breath hitched, and he quivered under his palm. Harry heard the wet sound of his mouth opening to speak, and he pinched his hip between his forefinger and thumb to stop him. Louis mewled. 

“I’m going to give you ten spanks for not obeying when I asked you, not once, but twice to get up,” Harry announced, words sharp with dominance. He looked at Louis’ ass presented in front of him, enticing him. He let his right hand travel to cup the round cheek, giving it a tight squeeze and enjoying Louis’ whimper in response. “I don’t want to hear you make a sound or this all stops, and you go home. Color?”

Louis’ thoughts were loud, his body vibrating with anticipation. “Green, sir,” Louis answered in a breathy voice.

Harry hummed. “Good. Now be quiet.”

Harry removed his hand from Louis’ ass, clenching his fingers and then releasing. He breathed through his mouth and moved to the side. The first slap happened without any warning. It probably startled Louis more than it hurt him. His body tensed up, but he didn’t make a sound.

The next swats were sharp and quick, whole palm crashing against tender skin. The cheeks felt warm under his hand as he kept switching his slaps from one to the other, trying to get it over with as soon as possible. Winding down, Harry slammed down for the last two smacks, fingertips itching.

“You did so good, baby. Not even the tiniest sound, such a good boy,” Harry rushed out the praise, hand now carefully caressing over the reddened flesh. He looked at Louis’ face, which was plastered against the cushions, eyes squinted shut, tears sliding down his scarlet tainted cheeks. He was biting down on his arm to stop any sound from coming out. “What’s your color, baby? You can speak now.”

Louis released his arm, licking his lips before opening his mouth, voice rough as he said; “G-green, sir.”

“I’m proud of you, baby. You did so good,” Harry said, leaning down to pick up the lube and pouring some in his fingers.

Louis’ eyes snapped open at the familiar sound, and he met Harry’s gaze. He chewed down on his swollen bottom lip, eyelashes gleaming from the tears. He looked stunningly divine— an angel among mortals.

Harry threw the bottle on the floor and circled a finger around Louis’ hole before he slipped it easily into him. Too easily. Harry’s brows knitted together.

“Louis,” Harry drawled out, pulling his finger out. Louis’ body followed the movement as he groaned at the loss. “Did you finger yourself?”

Louis looked at him, his Adam’s apple shifting as he swallowed. “Yes, sir. I’m— I did. I wanted to be ready for you,” he said, speaking in a soft tone, almost timid.

“Such a thoughtful boy,” Harry accompanied the praise by swiftly sliding three lubed fingers right into Louis’, ripping a cry out of him.

Louis’ eyes rolled back, clenching tight around him. Harry stilled his movement, making sure Louis could adjust to the sudden intrusion. The squeeze around his fingers eased; Louis was deliciously opening up for him, making Harry delirious with desire. He strictly avoided his prostate as he began slowly thrusting in and out of Louis at a slow pace, hole getting sloppier with lube, inviting his fingers to go deeper. Louis tried rocking his hips, but Harry placed his free hand over his lower back to keep him from moving.

“Sir,” Louis whined.

“Shush, baby. I’ll give you what you need,” Harry said as he stopped the languid torturing pace of his fingers. Louis cried out as he pulled them out to take off his clothes, his aching hard cock springing free and jerking against his stomach. Harry hastily gave it a tight tug, shivering at the feeling.

“Sir,” Louis repeated, the distress now more noticeable in his voice.

“Come here,” Harry commanded, taking a step back.

Louis turned around and sagged forward, arms immediately circling around Harry’s neck, his stiff cock pressing against his leg. Louis was kissing him before he could do anything else, but he fervently dove into the kiss, not wasting more than a second to react at the opportunity to taste Louis. Harry sucked on his tongue, swallowing all of his eagerness as if it was a vice

Harry eventually broke the heated kiss, pulling his face only a few inches away to be able to look into Louis’ eyes. “How’s your ass feel, baby?”

Louis twisted his lip to the side, pretending to be thinking. “Feels like it’s just gotten a good old-fashioned spanking,” he finally said, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Yeah?” Harry humored him.

Louis nodded, faking a very endearing pout. “Hurts.”

“I bet it does,” Harry said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Louis’ mouth parted to let out a whiff of air as Harry grabbed both of his legs and picked him up. Louis rapidly looped them around Harry’s waist, arms tightening around his neck. Their cocks deliciously rubbed together, and Louis sucked love bites all over his throat as Harry carried him to the bedroom.

He gently laid him down on the bed, Louis tugging him down with him. Harry swiftly moved his arms to rest beside Louis’ head so he wouldn’t crush him

“Careful,” he managed to huff out before Louis murmured something unintelligible against his mouth and took it in a feverish kiss.

He positioned himself between Louis’ legs as their lips moved together. Louis began rutting up against him, nails digging into his back, and Harry devoured all of Louis’ soft moans.

He nipped at Louis’ bottom lip before he pulled back, sitting on his knees. Harry admired the breathtaking view laid out in front of him; Louis’ eyes were closed, his cheeks burning red from the arousal, chest rapidly heaving up and down. His nipples were hardened, begging to be pinched, and his throbbing cock twitched, a wet spot over his belly where he was dripping with desire.

Harry easily lifted Louis’ legs over his shoulders, looking down as he ran his thumb over his perineum. Louis shuddered, choking on a moan. Harry grabbed his cock and pressed the head against Louis’ hole. He inhaled through his nose, skin burning with want. Harry looked up, and as green met blue he shoved his cock inside him in one stroke.

Louis threw his head back, burying his face in the pillow. One of his hands reached down to stroke himself but Harry swatted it away.

He pulled out, only leaving the head in. “No touching,” Harry warned and roughly thrusted back in, twisting his nipple between his fingers.

“Fuck,” Louis moaned, gripping the bedsheets, knuckles going white.

“Look how greedy your hole is, baby. How does that feel, huh? How does my cock feel inside you?” Harry growled, rocking back and forth in a quick rhythm, heart rabbiting against his chest.

“Good— so good, sir,” Louis choked out.

Harry shut his eyes, feeling a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. Louis was greedily swallowing him up, warm hole welcoming him in every thrust as Harry kept hitting that sweet spot inside him. His body was burning, cock wet and pulsing as he dove in and out. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, rough groans and muffled cries filled the steamy room for the next few minutes.

Harry bit down on the meaty leg next to his face, ears ringing as his orgasm rapidly built up. He felt his balls tightening and that familiar heat in his lower belly. He cursed, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

He couldn’t delay it anymore; he was too close. Harry pulled out and straddled Louis’ hips. He took his cock in his hand and gave it two quick strokes before he spilled hot, white streams all over Louis’ chest. He let out a deep, almost feral, groan. 

Harry tried regularizing his breathing, and when he opened his eyes, there was a pleading look on Louis’ face, desperation painted all over it. His painfully hard cock laying over his stomach, about to burst.

Harry lay down on his stomach, Louis’ cock a few inches away from his face. He licked three of his fingers and shoved them inside Louis without any preamble, giving him what Harry knew he needed.

“Oh,” Louis cried out, hands flying to hold onto his shoulders.

Harry used his free hand to guide Louis’ cock into his mouth. He swallowed him down, moving up and down, shifting the angle of his fingers. He kept insistently hitting his prostate. Louis cried out, hole desperately clenching around him.

He pulled his head back, “Yeah, baby,” he growled, fingers ramming into Louis’ body, “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

Louis' come filled his mouth as soon as Harry’s lips wrapped around the head, and he hummed as he swallowed it all. Louis’ legs were shaking like leaves, his nails painfully digging into the skin of his shoulders.

He dropped a few kisses on his hip, enjoying the soft sounds coming from Louis’ mouth, and the way his body felt tender and delicate under him.

Harry moved to a sitting position beside Louis, whose eyes were closed, and whispered; “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” Louis whispered back, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a satisfied smile as he slowly fluttered his eyes open.

He placed a hand on Louis’ knee. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” Louis responded sincerely.

“Yeah?” Harry’s hand traveled up to his thigh, his thumb drawing small circles over the soft skin. 

Louis nodded, gaze shying away.

Harry gently pinched him to get his attention. “I’m going to get something to clean you up. You’ll be alright? I’ll be quick,” he assured.

Louis draped an arm over his eyes, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Harry didn’t get an answer from him.

“Louis,” Harry tried again.

“Okay,” Louis said, voice weak and almost inaudible.

Harry’s hands fisted at his sides. His body demanded him to stay in bed with Louis and wrap him in his arms until they both felt at ease, but he needed to clean him up and put some cream over his bruised ass. He couldn’t go without aftercare; it was fundamental.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

Harry got up and strode toward the bathroom. He opened the cabinet and got a towel and the arnica. He quickly walked back into the room and scurried onto the bed.

Louis dropped his arms beside himself when he felt the mattress dip, blue eyes staring at him expectantly. Harry sat cross-legged beside him and put the arnica down on the bed.

They didn’t say a word as Harry wiped the come off Louis’ chest with the towel, but Harry felt Louis’ hot gaze watching his every move.

Harry threw the towel off the bed and picked up the arnica. “Can you flip over on your stomach?” he asked tenderly.

“I’m— I’m okay. You don’t have to do that,” Louis said, waving his hand in the air in a dismissive way.

“Louis,” Harry said, keeping his voice tempered and low. “You need it. And I need to do this. Please, can you flip over on your stomach?”

Louis stared into his eyes for a few seconds, looking like he was biting his tongue to stop himself from rejecting Harry’s request again. Then he turned around just as he’d been asked to and hid his face between his folded arms.

His bruised ass was still painted in a soft, pretty crimson shade. Harry couldn’t resist the urge to lay a tender kiss on each cheek before he poured some arnica out in his hands. He started carefully working his hands around Louis’ ass, massaging the colored cheeks, drawing circles with his whole hands, keeping his touch delicate.

He completely stilled all movement when he heard a hiccup. A nasty, freezing feeling ran down his spine. 

“Louis?”

He tried leaning in to see Louis but his face was still hidden between his arms. Louis’ back shuddered as he let out a sob.

“Louis,” he repeated, this time his voice was filled with preoccupation. He slowly pulled his hands away. “Are you okay? Why are crying, baby? Did I—“ he paused, taking a deep breath through his mouth. “Did I hurt you? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

Louis prompted into his forearms and whipped his head back to look back at Harry. There were tears falling down his face, and Harry felt his heart clenching.

“Nonono,” Louis said, shaking his head repeatedly. “I— I loved everything we did,” he said as he wiped at his cheeks with his right hand, “These are just satiated tears.”

“Oh,” he said, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“You always take such good care of me. Always make me feel good. It just— it overwhelms me.”

A deep primal part of Harry filled with pride at those words. He grinned, placing a hand on the back of Louis’ knee. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart.”

Louis coyly smiled back at him.

“So,” Harry started. He picked up the bottle of arnica and placed it on the nightstand. “I’m going to make us a cup of tea, how does that sound?”

“Really good” Louis murmured in a dreamy voice.

“Do you want to come with me to the kitchen or wait here for me?”

Louis took a moment to consider it. “I’ll go with you,” he decided. 

“Okay, baby.”

He got up and went to pick up a robe for Louis and for himself from his wardrobe. He handed Louis the clothes, and once they were dressed, they headed down. The first thing Harry did was turn off the fireplace, Louis waiting by his side. 

When they reached the kitchen, Harry put the kettle on, Louis still quietly lingering by his side. He leaned in, dropping his head over Harry’s shoulder. Harry couldn’t resist and wrapped his arm around his tiny waist.

Harry filled two mugs and handed one to Louis. Louis murmured a ‘thank you’ and took a sip, humming his approval. _See? I still know how you take your tea._ Harry thought. He was probably never going to forget every detail he knew about Louis. He was probably never going to stop wanting to make tea for him every day of his life.

They silently drank the tea, standing side by side, their legs brushing together. Harry looked at him a few times, but Louis’ gaze was lost somewhere else.

At some point, Louis went to the bathroom, and Harry took his time to wash and dry the mugs. When he went back to the bedroom, Louis was already on the bed, lying on his stomach.

Harry lay beside him, and Louis instantly scooted closer. He scooped his right leg over Harry’s and rested his head over his chest. 

Harry felt all the exhaustion he’d pushed back rushing back to him. He’d been awake for longer than 20 hours, body aching all over and heart heavy in his chest. He quickly fell asleep to the sound of Louis’ calm breathing.

——————

The curtains had been drawn, morning light gleaming through the windows. Squinting his eyes, Harry haphazardly padded the bed and found a cold spot next to him. _Of course—_ Louis had already left.

He kicked the covers off, humming as he stretched his body. After a few minutes of silently staring at the ceiling, he decided to get out of bed, yawning as he slid his feet into his slippers. He made his way to the bathroom where he took a piss, brushed his teeth, and did his morning skincare routine. Once he was back in the bedroom, he put on some sweatpants and a warm jumper before picking up the dirty towel that was lying on the floor from last night and throwing it in the basket that was in the laundry room.

His stomach grumbled as he entered the kitchen, thinking of how appetizing a hot cup of coffee and some toast with strawberry jelly sounded. Harry came to a sudden stop by the threshold. 

The kitchen door that led to the backyard was ajar.

“Louis?” Harry tentatively called.

“Here,” Louis’ voice came from outside.

The cold morning rapidly embraced Harry as he stepped out of the house, the breeze caressing his cheeks and freezing his nose.

Louis was sitting on a couch, the deep navy colored set they’d decided on after weeks of backyard design discussions. He was wearing Harry’s light blue, oversized hoodie, hands tucked inside the sleeves, and his own joggers. His gaze was lost somewhere in the garden.

“What are you doing out here? Aren’t your balls like freezing?” Harry asked through chattering teeth, rubbing his hands together.

“I needed to think,” was Louis’ simple answer.

“And what? Hypothermia helps you with that?”

Louis shrugged, not even sparing one glance Harry’s way.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, debating whether he should go back inside and have breakfast or sit down and wait until one of them had enough courage to start a conversation.

Harry stealthily sat on the couch that was next to Louis after a few moments of silence. He snuck his hands between his thighs, trying to keep them warm. He sat there, staring at the green magnitude of the garden, the empty round swimming pool with the rock waterfall, the white roses spreading along a path that lead to a gazebo; the same roses that Louis had planted all by himself after declining Harry’s offers to help. Harry had hired a gardener to keep it all perfectly intact after their breakup.

He could smell their sweet aroma from here when the air hit his nose just right.

“Does your boyfriend know you’re here?” 

Louis abruptly whipped his head to look at Harry, brows pinching together. “Wha—what?”

“I mean, you spent the night at your ex’s house. Quite progressive dude you got there, Louis,” Harry mocked, a wry grin on his face.

“James’ not—Oh, fuck off, Harry,” Louis sneered, jaw clenched. “Why are you being such an asshole?”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Harry said in a fake apologetic tone, raising his hands in surrender. “I thought it was a reasonable question, that’s all.”

Louis licked his lips, a huff of breath coming out of his nose. He shook his head as he let out a deprecatory chuckle.

“What?” Harry grumbled.

“The only thing we’re better at other than fucking is fighting,” Louis’ words sent a cold shiver down Harry’s spine. Louis’s face twisted in pain, as if his own words had dug a knife in his heart just as deep as they had in Harry’s. The desperation tangible in his voice as he rushed out; “ _Fuck._. I’m— I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said that. I can’t seem to stop saying stupid shit. It’s like the only thing I’m good at since…”

Louis trailed off, lips pressing together in a tight line as his eyes began to water, battling to gain control over his own emotions. The sight of Louis struggling to fight back his tears was agonizing to bear. Feeling powerless, Harry pressed his back to the chair and shifted his gaze away.

“We—“ Harry started. He took a long, deep breath, filling up his lungs with fresh air. “We always used to talk about our feelings, about what we were thinking and how those thoughts made us feel. We used to talk about the things that made us hurt. We didn’t just fuck them out of our systems.”

“What if _we_ are what’s been hurting me?” Louis asked under his breath.

“Then, I have to say we’re on the same page.”

The chipper singing of the birds and the howls of the wind blowing accompanied them in the calm silence that followed their confession. Daring, Harry turned to look at Louis and found blue eyes already staring back at him.

“I don’t regret last night,” Louis said, the honest statement washing over Harry.

He looked a bit more settled now, at least not on the verge of crying, and Harry bet he probably looked the same. They’d gone so long without being honest around each other that it felt freeing finally admitting what had been taunting them. 

“Okay.”

“Do you?” Louis asked, a trace of vulnerability dripping off his voice.

“No, Louis. I don’t regret it,” Harry reassured him.

Louis bit his lip, and Harry’s gaze dropped down, staring at his mouth. He wanted to kiss him so badly.

“Do you love me?”

Harry’s heart thudded in his chest. _That’s not a fair question, Louis. Why are you asking me this?_ Harry wanted to shout it out, but the words died in his throat.

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he said those three words out loud. He’d texted Louis he loved him the few first times after their breakup, but saying it to his face was a completely different matter.

Swallowing down his feelings for such a long time had been utterly damaging, and most times it had been almost impossibly intolerable being in the same room as Louis and having to suppress the desperate need to spend the rest of his life and the next ones after that telling him how fiercely loved he would always be. 

“I don’t think I’m physically able to stop loving you,” Harry confessed.

Louis’ face crumbled. He pulled both legs up and placed his arms over his knees, carelessly dropping his head over them and hiding his face as the sobbing sounds erupted.

Harry didn’t think twice as he jumped off his chair and rushed to Louis, sliding down to his knees in front of him. Louis immediately launched himself at him, and as always, Harry was there, ready to catch him.

“Baby,” Harry whispered as Louis’ arms urgently wrapped around his waist. Harry grabbed his face in both hands in an attempt to stop him from shying away, his fingers getting wet with the tears that were cascading down his cheeks.

“Harry… I— surely you know,” Louis whined, his trembling hands desperately fisting Harry’s shirt. “You know, right?”

“I know, Louis. I know.”

Harry wasn’t sure why he lied when in reality he had no clue what Louis was failing to voice. Perhaps it was the habit residue of burying all his thoughts and feelings down.

They had said so much already, more than they had in the last few months. Harry supposed they were heading into a much healthier direction. This time felt different, like things were slowly but surely falling into their rightful place.

——————

Harry reunited with the band in November. He finally felt like he was in the right headspace to create music; to unashamedly expose his vulnerability and use it to his advantage. They’d thrown a small party in Sarah’s apartment, spending the night playing instruments, melodies all around them.

The concept of the album appeared in one of Harry’s dreams, and lately he found himself spending most of his days with the band in search of sounds that would match the ideas he’d been envisioning.

After their last encounter, Harry had noticed that the tension between Louis and him had completely vanished. They’d been texting daily over the weeks as if they couldn’t go without it— the conversations very closely resembling the ones that they used to have before their breakup. Although their communication had improved significantly, they hadn’t actually found the time to have _that talk_ yet. Louis had been busy putting the final touches on his album, and for his part Harry had been enthusiastically giving all of his attention to his own music.

The rumors had started in December, as the cruel cold slipped into the new days. There had been pictures of Louis with this guy —James— going to different places, from pubs to cafés, to Louis’ studio even. Big headlines had announced the flourishing romance, but Louis hadn’t confirmed nor denied it; Harry had _definitely_ checked.

Against all reasoning, Harry’s body had succumbed to jealousy. This irredeemable part of his heart that would always possessively think of Louis as his —and he as Louis’— poked at his every nerve.

In a short amount of time, the media had milked the rumors dry, quickly moving on to the next celebrity.

Harry had woken up an hour ago, and he was already on his second cup of coffee. He was sitting in the kitchen, laptop on the island, a half-eaten bagel with avocado on top next to it, and a blossoming headache after replying to a bunch of important emails.

He closed the laptop, sliding it away from him, and picked up his phone. Taking a sip of his warm coffee, he opened Instagram, the distraction easing the buzz in his head. 

Harry watched story after story, not actually paying much attention to any of it. Then, something caught his eye, and he rapidly went back to check if it really was what he thought he’d seen. Lottie had uploaded a story on best friends twenty hours ago, and yes, he’d been right— that was a picture of Louis.

Harry recognized Lottie’s living room; he’d been there many times before. Louis was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a 70’s style rug underneath him. He was holding an olive green mug, looking through the window that oversaw the garden. He probably hadn’t even noticed he’d been photographed. Lottie had added a text; _He won’t shut up about his birthday._

He kept contemplating the picture for a moment too long, completely hypnotized by Louis’ soft, pretty features that he almost didn’t notice _it_ at first. He squinted his eyes, heart halting as realization dawned upon him. There it was, on Louis’ finger, his engagement ring. The one Harry had given him after proposing. The one Louis had thrown at Harry’s chest when he’d broken up with him.

Harry had saved the ring in its box inside the pocket of a jacket he’d barely worn anymore right after he’d returned from Japan. He’d been done crying over a circular object that brought him too many memories that only worsened his emotional state.

So Louis must have taken it the last time he’d been at the house, and there was always the chance that he’d taken the ring a long time ago, considering he still had the key house. Harry had no way of knowing, he hadn’t once checked on it after putting it away. 

Louis had been wearing the ring, and Harry would have never found out about it if Lottie hadn’t taken a picture of Louis without him noticing.

Harry had to do something about it. He needed to know. It had to mean something. Why else would Louis be wearing his engagement ring?

He got dressed in record time, grabbed his coat, and hopped in his Mercedes-Benz. There were dark clouds settling in the sky, making it look like it was later than it actually was.

A rush of hope was slicing through his soul, thrumming past his veins, carving into his bones. Louis was wearing his engagement ring, and that could only mean he’d been thinking about them— possibly about getting back together.

Perhaps Harry was rushing to conclusions, but who could blame him? He’d spent the last months longing for a moment like this one, where a second chance at getting things right was closer to reality than to wishful dreaming. 

Twenty minutes later, Harry was driving through Louis’ neighborhood. The buildings along the road had a Victorian architecture, and there were trees planted on the sidewalks decorated with bright Christmas lights. It was a rather quiet place, which probably gave Louis the privacy he wanted. 

Shutting off the engine, he put on his coat, the keys in his pants pockets, and hopped out of the car. He stumbled to the front door of Louis’ house, running a trembling hand through his hair and wincing when he felt how messy it was; he’d left the house in such a hurry that he hadn’t even taken the time to give his looks any consideration. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked.

_I can do this. I can._

Harry shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other whilst waiting. He glanced around, searching for any unwanted attention, or even worse; paparazzi. Fortunately, there was nobody around.

Harry took a rushed breath as the door opened, heart in his throat making him nauseous.

“Hey, Harry. Louis didn’t mention you were coming, is everything okay?”

He froze in place, the sudden need to flee overpowering any other feeling, even the ones that had driven him here.

James was looking at him, a friendly small plastered on his face. Every article Harry had read about Louis’ rumored romance flashed before his eyes, and he found himself having a hard time trying to fill his lungs with air.

“Harry?”

Louis appeared from behind the other man, brows pinching together, arms hugging around himself. He was looking at Harry like he was an alien standing on his doorstep.

Harry avoided his searching eyes and peered down his body. He was wearing an oversized black jumper, big enough that Harry bet he could fit in there too, and some matching sweatpants. He was also barefoot with no socks on. Their gazes locked the moment he raised his head back up.

“So… is the band getting back together?” James was the one to break the silence.

“No,” Louis quickly answered, breaking eye contact.

“Maybe,” Harry said at the same time.

“Sheesh, I guess One Direction is still a sensitive topic,” James muttered to himself. His hand reached out to rest gently over Harry’s shoulder, encouraging him to step into the house. “It’s freezing outside. Please, come in”

Harry attempted to sneakily shrug James’ hand off his shoulder and walked in. The warmth of the house rapidly enveloped Harry’s cold body as the mouth-watering scent of food reached his nose. There was a rather big lit up Christmas tree standing near a blue sofa, and an Oasis song was sofly playing from a vinyl player by a tall archway.

He caught the moment Louis and James spared a quick glance at each other as if communicating without having to use words.

A pang of jealousy burned deep inside him.

“We were about to have some lunch. Do you want to join us? Let me tell you, mate, I make the meanest lasagna,” James said as he extended his hand, waiting to take Harry’s coat as he was shrugging it off. Harry deliberately ignored the gesture and laid the coat over his own arm. Taking the hint, James dropped his hand, lips pursed as if holding himself back from making a comment.

“I just came to talk to Louis, and then I’ll be on my way,” Harry said indifferently.

A troubled look crossed Louis’ face as he sensed the tension between the two men. “Keep the lasagna warm for me, yeah?” Louis ended up saying, voice lacking firmness.

“Of course,” James said, warmly smiling at Louis. He looked back at Harry and said; “It was a pleasure finally meeting you.”

_Fuck off._

Harry managed to give him a stiff nod, and the man walked off.

Louis opened his mouth, and Harry prepared himself to be reprimanded for acting like a massive dickhead; he let out a sigh instead. “Let’s go to my office,” he said and turned away without sparing a glance back at Harry.

Harry kept his eyes focused on Louis’ back as they walked past the kitchen. He refused to watch another man moving around Louis’ house like he belonged there.

This extremely invasive jealousy was clouding his judgment, because rationally Harry had been on the receiving end of many romance rumors to know for certain that the majority of them were made up bullshit, but right now all he could picture was Louis looking way too cozy with his rumored boyfriend, and it was breaking his heart in pieces.

Why was he still here? He should just leave, spare the two of them of any more unnecessary suffering.

Harry stopped in his tracks, ready to tell him he was going to go home, but Louis stopped at the same time. They were already standing outside his office.

Louis’ hand reached for the doorknob, and there it was again, right on his finger; the engagement ring.

Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both sounded incredibly appealing at the moment.

Louis seemed to be unaware of the battle of emotions going on inside Harry as he opened the door and walked in.

The office’s walls were covered by big wooden bookshelves, except for one wall with a tall window that was letting the daylight in. There was a wooden desk matching the bookshelves in the middle of the room, a computer over it and a fake green plant next to it.

Everything that Harry had practiced to tell Louis on his way over suddenly vanished at the sight of Louis playing house with another man while still wearing his ring. Harry was so tired of feeling hurt.

“I want the ring back,” Harry blurted out when Louis turned around to finally look at him. He pointed with his head at Louis’ hand.

Saying those words revolted his stomach. When Harry had proposed, the thought that one day he would be asking Louis to give the ring back had never even crossed his mind. Then again, Harry hadn’t imagined Louis would be throwing it at his chest later on either.

“What?“ Louis asked in almost a whisper, confusion all over his face. He followed Harry’s gaze. His hand twitched. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I won’t give you the ring back. You gave it to me. It’s mine,” Louis said, firmer this time. He clasped his hands together and brought them up against his chest. He was protectively hugging his hands closer to his body, like he was expecting Harry to snatch the ring way from him at any moment.

“Is this a joke? You threw that ring at me when you dumped me,” Harry snickered. And why was it always so easy to turn all his hurt into anger? He hated the way he was reacting, but the words kept spilling out of his mouth like they’d been choking him all this time.

They should have never gone so long without talking. They’d made too many mistakes, bottled up too many emotions. Now anger and the feeling of being on the edge of collapsing to his knees and crying his heart out were pushing back and forth, trying to dominate one over the other, and it was atrociously messing with Harry’s head.

“It’s still mine,” Louis whispered, words dripping with desperation.

Harry carelessly dropped his coat on the floor, taking a step closer to Louis. “ _You_ were the one that made the decision to leave, and I just— I had to pretend that I knew how to cope without you when I still had all this love for you inside me, constantly reminding me of your absence.”

Louis stumbled back, almost falling down if it wasn’t for the desk behind him. He put both hands over it to try to stabilize himself. Harry looked down and pinched his eyes to stop the tears of frustration threatening to spill out.

He took a shuddering breath and continued; “I’ve spent the first months hoping and praying that it was all just a nightmare, but I woke up every morning to an empty bed, and it weakened me. You know—“ he let out a strangled huff, head still bowing down and eyes tightly squeezing shut. He wasn’t sure he’d manage not to cry if he took even the briefest peek at Louis. “I unconsciously still cooked for two because I was so used to living with you that I had an awful time trying to adapt to my new reality. I admit I refused to accept that home felt right without you, and that’s why I had to leave. I went to Japan thinking it would help me ease the pain, but all I did there was think of you, of all the things I wanted to tell you, of all the things I had done wrong and wanted to fix, but you.. you just gave up on us. And then this James guy appeared, but you’re wearing your engagement ring, and it’s all so confusing…” his rambling trailed off. He gathered some air to push the next words out of his chest; “I’m just so tired of hurting, of wishing for something that might never come. I don’t even know how to feel anymore.”

Relief after finally opening up about his feelings hit Harry like a train, making him weak in the knees. His throat was sore after the long emotional speech, eyes still stinging.

It was Louis’ hiccups that made Harry’s head snap up. The sight in front of him breaking his heart all over again. His hand was covering his mouth in an unsuccessful attempt at stopping the crying noises from escaping as tears furiously rushed down his flushed cheeks. 

Harry didn’t regret his confession, but seeing Louis in pain —pain that he’d caused— was ruthlessly dismantling the last strings of his composure, his whole being demanding him to rush to Louis and hold him in his arms, to let him know that everything was going to be okay, even when Harry wasn’t certain of that himself.

“Harry, I’m— what do you—” Louis stumbled over his words, voice choked with tears and trembling fingers hovering over his lips. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

That question was so unfair when Louis had been breaking his heart every time he’d come back to him only to leave him right after— when there was another man in Louis’ kitchen who was keeping a stupid lasagna warm for them to eat after Harry walked out the door.

“You don’t get to ask me that right now, Louis.”

Louis sniffled, his shaking hands trying to wipe away the tears that just kept uncontrollably falling and falling. “I—” he stopped and took a watery breath, eyes full of despair. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what— I’m sorry.”

Harry harshly pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes, air barely making it inside his body. Louis’ notorious insecurity spoke for itself, but Harry couldn’t piece it all together when his own confession was still ringing in his ears. 

A simple office hadn’t been built to encapsulate these many confusing feelings, its four walls structure on the edge of crumbling down after a powerful love story like theirs chaotically unraveled, causing an invisible force to leave no one unwared of their hearts' prodding demands.

The minutes that passed as Louis’ cries became gentler and Harry’s own breathing regulated had given him enough time to think of where to go from there. Immediately after came the realization that this might actually be the hardest decision he would ever have to make.

Harry straightened his back, taking his hands away from his face. It was up to him now, he had to put a stop to this suffering trip that presented no final destination.

He was met with sad blue eyes, all red and swollen.

“I think,” Harry started, taking a step closer to Louis. He didn’t flinch or look away, so Harry took another one. “I think that we need some time apart.”

“What?”

“We can’t just keep doing whatever we’re doing. I mean, we’re masochists at this point. And it’s not fair for either of us to pretend that this is what we want. I’ve had this awful pain in my chest…and I just want it to go away.”

Things would have been so much easier if they both had talked about it from the start — if they hadn’t kept quiet about how much the decisions they’d taken had been destroying them.

Harry had felt terribly weak every time he’d let Louis into his bed, but some primal part of him, the one that fiercely and unconditionally loved Louis, just wouldn’t let him deny himself of having Louis in any way, even if it was only for a night, or for a few hours.

It all made sense now that he could clearly see all the dots connecting together. Louis had been the one deciding to come back to him every time; he’d been willingly seeking Harry out, needing his touch, _needing him_. Harry was weak, but so was Louis.

“So…you don’t want me around anymore?”

Louis’ voice pulled him from his deep thoughts. He was eyeing Harry, a small frown on his face like he desperately needed to figure him out.

“I don’t think I want me around, but that’s just... impossible to accomplish,” Harry tried to joke, but Louis’ frown only deepened. He lifted his hand up until it was right in front of Louis’ face, waiting for his permission. Louis gave him a tiny nod, and Harry gently cupped his sharp jaw, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the touch. “We can’t keep hurting each other like this.”

“It’s all my fault,” Louis whimpered, trying to shift his face away.

“No, that’s not—“ Harry brought along his other hand to properly hold his face. “It’s also my fault. I fucked up too,” he paused to inhale some air, hoping he could continue without his voice breaking. “It’s just— you know how easy I am for you. You say jump, I ask how high. It’s always been like that. My need to give you everything you ask for is ingrained in me. And if you ask me to forget whatever I’m trying to do here, if you ask me to keep seeing each other even if it hurts us, you know I won’t deny you—because frankly I can’t. But I’m begging here, please don’t ask me that, because I just won’t say no, and I really believe we need some time apart.”

Slowly, Louis blinked his eyes open, visible tears prickling at the corners yet again. “Harry,” he gasped out the word.

“It’s okay,” Harry shushed him, his thumbs drawing small circles over his cheeks, delicately caressing the soft skin. “It’ll be tough, but I’m certain this is what we need right now. So let’s take some time apart to think about what we’ve been doing to each other, and how we want to move on from there. And Louis, just know that whatever you decide, I’ll always be waiting for you.”

A few tears rolled down, dampening Harry’s fingers. His own vision became blurry as he intensely stared at the storm wildly unleashing in the deep blue ocean of Louis’ eyes.

“How can you be certain that you’ll still want me then?” Louis whispered, lips wobbling.

“‘Cause I’m pretty sure there’s not a universe where I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you, baby.”

Louis let out a choked sob, throwing himself at Harry with urgency. He plastered his body against his, shoving his face into the crook of his neck.

Harry quickly caught Louis by the waist, resting his chin on top of his hair, greedily burying his nose in it and letting the apple scent of Louis’ shampoo soothe his lungs.

The restlessness that had been prowling around them all these months slithered through the floor and past the cracks of the walls that were no longer in danger of crumbling down, leaving the office in a hurry.

Harry had forgotten how easy it was to just hold Louis, without any worries gathering inside his head, just two bodies that knew each other too well perfectly fitting together as if they were created to exist this way.

“Harry,” Louis mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“James is just a friend,” he said, snuggling further into Harry’s neck. “I guess my intention at the beginning was to get over you, and that’s when I started seeing him. And that didn’t really work out— the whole getting over you thing; not when I was still coming back to you at every given chance. After Rome, I told James I wasn’t interested in a relationship, and he said he knew about you. I mean, not _you_. But— he said he could tell I was still not over someone,”

Louis sighed, his warm breath tickling Harry’s skin. He continued; “He’s a neat bloke, really. We became really good friends after that, but that’s about it. You can stop being a jerk to him now.”

Harry chuckled, cheeks flaming as he was having his obvious act of jealousy pointed out to him.

“Okay, baby.”

Louis leaned his head back, their arms still wrapped around each other. Louis’ tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and Harry attentively followed the movement, the pungent desire to kiss him assaulting his senses.

He swallowed all that want down, raising his gaze up and finding Louis’ searching eyes. Harry knew that look; he had something to say but was having trouble trying to find the right way to express it. So Harry brought one hand to the back of Louis’ head, caressing the short hairs at his nape as he patiently waited.

“I love you, Harry. You have to know that. It’s just that—“

“We need time,” Harry finished for him, heart galloping in his chest. Hearing Louis say he loved him awakened something inside him that Harry had thought was no longer alive.

“Why are you always the wise one? I’m older than you,” Louis said, mouth shaping in a cute pout, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering as Harry’s hand gently gave his neck a squeeze.

“Well,” Harry shrugged, a smirk forming on his face. “I guess you’ve taken all the stupid with you in the divorce.”

“Oh god, stop,” Louis’ giggles turned into a soft whine. “Don’t joke about it, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Harry apologized. He blindly searched for Louis’ hand, the one wearing the ring, and brought it up to his lips. “Keep it, yeah?” Harry murmured as he laid a kiss on his knuckles. Louis gave him a shy nod, and Harry caught a glimpse of a small grin before Louis was dropping his head over Harry’s shoulder.

Here, in Louis’ office, Harry had cut his own heart open and offered Louis a peek inside him. _Feel what I feel. Know I mean no harm. This right here belongs to you. The good and the bad._ Louis had vehemently listened to him, allowing himself to be vulnerable too.

“I better get going and let you get back to that mean lasagna,” Harry said as he tried pulling away, but Louis clung to him, arms tightening around his neck.

“Just—“ Louis protested. “I’m sorry. It’s—yeah,” he mumbled incoherently as he shook his head and took a step back, his arms falling to his sides.

Harry’s hand itched with need, body urging him to crush Louis back into his body. If he stood there watching Louis trying to tame his urges, the same ones he too was experiencing, he wasn’t ever going to leave. Taking a deep breath, he went to pick up his coat, putting it on.

They exited the office, Louis behind him gently tugging on Harry’s coat as they marched to the front door. Once they reached it, Louis swiftly moved past him and stood in front of him, barricading the door. Harry stopped short, feeling stunned. Louis’ eyes bore into Harry’s, letting every emotion that was going through him show on his face.

“I love you,” Louis whispered, raw sincerity latched to every word.

“I love you too,” Harry said, voice loud and filling the room. Louis’s body went pliant, as if maybe he'd been terrified that he’d been imagining it all. Harry could accompany him in that feeling. 

Louis turned around and opened the door, a cold breeze making its way into the house. “Drive safe, yeah? And text me when you get home,” he said.

The moment was ending too soon, and Harry would do anything to prolong it at least for a few more seconds. He reached out and grabbed Louis’ hands, bringing them to his mouth and laying a tender kiss on the middle of each palm.

“Harry,” Louis murmured in a breathy voice.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m— It’s hard to pull away,” Harry gave Louis’ hands one last kiss and dropped them. He straightened up his back and put on his warmest smile as those sparkling blue eyes stared right through him. “Take care, baby.”

“You too,” Louis said, returning the smile.

As Harry got to his car and opened the door, he turned around instead of getting in. Louis was still standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around himself and looking at Harry.

He raised his hand and waved at him. 

Louis waved back. 

They hadn’t had these sort of goodbyes in a long time— the ones that weren’t really a goodbye but more of a see you later.

Harry hopped in the car and drove home, his head finally quiet and the ache in his chest easing off.

——————

Harry played the last few chords.

Down, down, up, up, down, up. His hand followed along with the strumming pattern.

Harry stopped, fingers hovering over the strings as the notes slowly faded off. He’d noticed his voice had trembled at some point during the song with the overwhelming intensity of his emotions.

He breathed in and looked up.

Mitch was sitting in an armchair in front of him, a guitar between his legs and looking down at his phone.

Harry had showed up at his apartment with a pizza box after Mitch had invited him over. They’d eaten it as they’d watched a documentary on climate change. Then, Mitch had brought out the guitars, and they’d started brainstorming ideas for new songs and loosely writing some lyrics.

“I think,” Harry started, waiting for his friend’s attention. Mitch lifted his head. “I want, like, uplifting sounds at the end? The lyrics are sad, I know, but the start could have all these melancholic tones, and right before the end we can add an increasing beat to lighten up the song.”

Harry hadn’t worked on this song in a long time. Being honest, the last time he’d given it any attention had been in Japan. 

He didn’t want to think about that time of his life right now.

Lately, Harry had been feeling optimistic, content. He hadn’t noticed how much he’d missed this— feeling like hope and waiting weren’t pointless.

Harry had always thought that the song was incomplete, and maybe all these rediscovered emotions were the missing piece. He wanted to incorporate them into the ballad, shift it into a different tone, give it a whole new meaning.

“Maybe an instrumental finish? Some harmonies?” Mitch offered and leaned in to pick up a slice of the already cold pizza that was on the coffee table.

“Yeah! We should definitely bring this one to the studio and work something out,” Harry agreed enthusiastically.

Mitch nodded as he bit down on the pizza. “Can you play it one more time, please?” he asked, mouth full.

“Sure.”

Harry played it again, and then Mitch played it as Harry sang along.

By the time Harry decided to go home, it was already dark outside, lighting illuminating the black, clouded sky. He picked up the pizza box, threw it in the trash and then washed his hands. After hugging Mitch goodbye, he got in his car.

It’d been a sunny day when he’d arrived at Mitch’s, but now a few raindrops were falling over the windshield.

Harry plugged his phone into the aux, speakers playing Louis’ album as he drove through the city. He’d been tirelessly listening to it for the past month, enchanted by the rawness of Louis’ lyrics, the delicacy of his voice and all the new sounds.

Harry had heard Louis say he desperately wanted to go back on tour in one of the many interviews he’d been doing since his album came out. He could understand that excitement, that itching sensation to perform live after your first big project, to play those special songs and hear the public sing them back to you.

For his part, even if he was already working on his album, he still had the press campaign for the movie, and that was going to be a whole month filled with traveling and interviews to promote it. The album was on its way, and Harry wasn’t worried about taking longer to finish it when he was already feeling accomplished with the progress he’d been making with the band.

Harry turned off the engine as the garage doors closed behind him. He sat there, waiting for the song to end. He got goosebumps all over his body as his chest filled up with pride. Louis’ soft singing resonated in the car;

_It’s a solo song and it’s only for the brave._

——————

Harry wasn’t feeling hungry, so he prepared himself a cup of coffee before going back to his room. He sat down on his bed and covered his legs with the thick duvet. Sipping on his warm beverage, he listened to the rain pouring down.

The cup was warming his hands, and his back was comfortably resting against the headboard. He let out a pleased sigh.

The loud sound of the doorbell startled him.

Harry checked the hour. Who would visit him past ten without letting him know beforehand that they were coming?

He got up, his feet sliding into his slippers, and went downstairs. He peered through the peephole before urgently opening the door. “Louis?”

Louis looked at him, eyes wide, mouth gaping open, as if he’d been expecting Harry to take longer to answer the door. His hair was soaking wet and his clothes were drenched. Harry didn’t think Louis noticed the way he was shivering.

 _He needs to change and dry his hair before he gets sick_ was Harry’s initial thought.

“Harry, I’m so sorry. I know I’m a fool and— Whoa,” Louis huffed out as Harry grabbed his arm and yanked him inside the house. “Listen, I’m—“

“Can you please take your clothes off? I’m going to get you something dry to wear,” Harry interrupted, closing the door. He turned to Louis, whose nose was red, and drops of rain kept dripping from his hair and landing on his pale cheeks.

“Harry,” Louis whined, exasperation tinting his voice. “I’m trying to do something here.”

“So am I. I’m not letting you catch a cold,” Harry said with finality.

Louis groaned but obediently began undressing, struggling to take off the heavy, wet clothes. Goosebumps rose all over his exposed skin, and his arms wrapped around himself as Harry picked up the discarded items and quickly strutted out of the room. He left the wet clothes in the laundry room before getting dry ones, picking up a towel from the cabinet in the bathroom, and hurrying back to the living room.

Harry knew why Louis was here. The last time they’d seen each other, they’d opened up about how they were feeling, and they’d agreed that they needed to be apart for a while. It’d been clear they both had wanted to fix things between them, but it hadn’t been the right time.

Harry had been longing for this moment for months, and now that it was finally happening, he was considering pinching himself just to make sure it wasn’t one of his recurrent dreams. His body was thrumming with anticipation, unable to stop his hands from shaking, heart furiously beating against his chest. 

Of all the ways Harry had daydreamed this moment would go down, he’d never expected it to be quite like this. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t manage to picture Louis being all dramatic, showing up late on a rainy night, ringing the doorbell—when they both knew he still had the key— waiting for Harry to welcome him in. 

Reality beat Harry’s own imagination, every single one of his fantasies. Of course, Louis would create another unforgettable memory for him, one he was going to treasure until the day he took his last breath.

Louis was still standing in the same spot when Harry returned. His eyes shot up, sensing Harry as soon as he’d walked into the room. He strutted toward Louis, handing him the clothes.

Louis took them, whispering a small _thank you_ before he began changing. Harry’s joggers looked really baggy on him, and he had to tighten the string to prevent it from rolling down. “You ruined the moment,” he said, lips trembling from the cold. He put on the long-sleeve shirt, and the thick, green jumper that he used to wear more often than Harry did back when they lived together.

“Did I?” Harry asked, letting out a shaky chuckle.

Louis hummed, nodding exaggeratedly. “Yes, you did.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“You’re not sorry,” Louis grumbled, rolling his eyes as a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He stumbled a little while trying to put on his socks, and Harry extended his arm to help stabilize him.

“I forgot to bring you slippers,” Harry said when he noticed it. He added; “Here,” while taking off his own footwear.

“No, it’s ok. I don’t—” Louis refused, shaking his head.

“Put them on, Louis. Please.”

Louis stared at him for a moment, eyes searching for something all over Harry’s face. He ended up delicately sliding his covered feet into the slippers.

Harry tried to calm himself and his trembling hands as he carefully blotted and squeezed short strands of Louis’ hair with the towel. Louis kept quiet, letting Harry take his time.

“Ok, that’s better,” Harry said and took a step back. His hair was still damp, but at least it wasn’t dripping wet.

“Thank you,” Louis whispered. “Wait, where are you going now?”

“You’re still cold. I’m lighting the fireplace,” Harry explained. He moved around the couch, almost tripping over his own feet on his way.

Harry picked up three logs sitting inside a basket beside the fireplace. He miscalculated their weight and almost dropped them to the floor. Cursing, Harry kneeled in front of the fireplace and began putting some kindle in a pile, letting space between them for some air. He placed the logs over it.

Harry caught Louis fidgeting beside him from the corner of his eye.

“Can you hand me some newspapers, please? And the matches,” Harry asked, looking directly at Louis.

Louis gave him a short nod and picked up the nearest newspaper that Harry usually kept stocked for the fireplace and the matches that were sitting over the glass console table. He handed it all to Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry said while cutting the newspaper into stripes and laying them under the logs and kindle.

He used the match to light up the fireplace, and soon some smoke was making its way up the chimney.

“I thought you’d act differently if I showed up at your doorstep ready to vomit my heart out,” Louis spoke up, his voice low and almost blending in with the sounds of the crackling fire.

Harry managed to get up without his knees giving out. He turned to look at Louis, his hands were locked together in front of his body. “You know I always want to take care of you. That’s always my priority.”

Louis’ mouth parted open to take a deep breath. “Sheesh, yeah. I know. I know,” he mumbled, a rose blush coloring his cheeks.

“I’m going to get you something hot to drink. Does tea sound—“

“Harry,” Louis interrupted, quirking his brow up.

“Ok, ok. Sorry,” Harry apologized, lifting both palms up. “It’s just,” he stopped and shifted the weight from one leg to the other. He took a shuddering breath and continued; “I’m kind of nervous.”

“Really?” Louis asked, surprised.

Had Louis seriously not noticed it? Harry’s movements had been embarrassingly clumsy, not even to mention how jittery his hands had been while drying off his hair. 

“Louis, I’m so nervous right now that I feel like if I stop moving, I’m going to combust,” Harry admitted.

Louis’ mouth shaped in a silent ‘ _oh_ ’ before he dropped his gaze down, leaving Harry staring at the top of his head. Silence stretched between them as the warmth from the fireplace began spreading across the room.

Harry knew Louis was trying to regain the courage to say whatever he’d come here to say, so he stood there waiting and hoping Louis couldn’t hear the way his heart was fervently beating.

Louis’ eyes met Harry’s green ones, and the world stopped spinning for a second. Right here, right now, they were the only ones in the universe capable of feeling like this.

Louis licked his lips and began talking; “I’ve been such a shithead, and—“

“Louis—”

“No, Harry,” Louis stopped him, stepping closer and placing one hand over his chest.

Louis might not be able to hear his uncontrollably rabbiting heart, but he surely could feel it now. _Just take it._ Harry thought. _Bury your hand deep into my chest and take it. It’s yours._

“Please, let me apologize. Let me tell you everything,” Louis whispered, his eyes already shining with tears.

Harry could only nod, fisting his hands at his sides to stop himself from reaching out, from trying to comfort him.

“I promised myself I would never hurt you and knowing that I did kills me. I should’ve talked to you about how I was feeling. Why didn’t I just talk to you?” Louis whispered the last words more to himself than to Harry. “I’ve said and done things I will forever regret, and I really hope one day you can forgive me,” he paused, a few tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks. “I love you, Harry. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m so, so sorry.”

Louis’ legs weakened, and suddenly Harry was catching him before he crumbled to the ground. Louis pressed his face against his chest, sobbing as his arms desperately squeezed around Harry’s waist.

Harry choked on a cry, shoving his face in Louis’ hair as he let the tears rush down. The pain they’d been through these past months, the doubts, the fights— they were letting it all go.

Harry didn't know how long they stood in front of the fireplace just holding each other, but the crying and sniffing sounds eventually turned into steady breathing.

The pressure of Louis’ hand over his chest made Harry lean his head back and look at him.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come back,” Louis murmured.

“You’re back with me now, baby. That’s all that matters,” Harry said, wiping Louis’ wet cheeks with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologized again, eyes pleading Harry to understand how deeply he felt.

Harry took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry too, you know? The things I said to you... God, Louis, I know you don’t hate me, but I was horrible, and I blamed you for things we both knew you didn’t have any control over. I was so insensitive and so, so stupid.”

Louis’ hand moved up to cup his face, and Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt the coldness of _the ring_ pressing against his cheek. He’d been too stunned since Louis had arrived that he hadn’t even noticed Louis had been wearing it this whole time.

“We’ve both said things we regret. But—” Louis stopped, his fingers twitching. Harry blinked his eyes open and found Louis already intensely staring at him, vulnerability clear across his face. Louis swallowed before he continued; “I didn’t know how to stop fucking everything up, but you have to know that I always came back to you because that’s the only thing that feels right even when everything else feels out of place.”

He hadn’t been alone in the feeling. Louis had been hurting just as much as he’d been. Fools. That was what they were. Fools who loved too deeply, too fiercely, risking their hearts and souls without giving it too much thought. Somehow, the irrational fights, the miserable past months, the coming and going, they all faded into the background for a moment.

What really mattered was that they were here now, ready to get it right this time.

The confession ignited various sensations inside Harry, overwhelming him. He moved his head to the side, laying a kiss on Louis’ hand.

“I love you, and all I know is that I don’t ever want to be away from you again,” Louis said, words spoken loud and firm, letting the whole world know.

Harry whispered _I love you too_ against Louis’ mouth before sealing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

Like this, their arms around each other, the familiar heat of Louis’ body comfortably pressing against his; it finally felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic! Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed it.
> 
> tumblr: harrytomlinfond


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